


Wildest Dreams

by Rachiepoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Divorce, Dreams, Fabulous!Astoria, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Humor, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Soulmates, Wands, impossible love, marriage bond, past relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 85,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6036883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachiepoo/pseuds/Rachiepoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry starts to have crazy dreams of an alternate reality of what happened after the war. The weird thing is that he has a hard time remembering the dreams. The other weird thing is that they involve Draco Malfoy. Has Harry been put under a curse? It seems like only Malfoy knows, and he's avoiding him.  Harry returns to his old obsessive ways in order to figure things out.  Just what exactly is Malfoy hiding?  And why does Harry even care in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wildest Dreams

The sun beamed brightly across Malfoy Manor, illuminating the vast gardens of the estate. The gardens expanded into the far distance, flowers in bloom, birds chirping, and the peacocks strutting across the vast lawn. Harry Potter took in a deep breath and the smell of lavender, lilies, and roses was almost overwhelming. It did nothing to calm his nerves, but the man had defeated the Dark Lord, so this should have been nothing to worry himself over. He shook his head and began to make his way up the path to the mansion.

The manor had changed drastically from the last time Harry had been there. Narcissa Malfoy had no doubt taken it upon herself to try and erase the stain of the war. No longer was there an eerie gloom about the place, but rather the feeling of a promising rebirth. 

The manor was not the only thing that had changed, the family did as well. I guess war did that to people, Harry thought. After the battle of Hogwarts, some of the remaining Death Eaters were rounded up and put on trial for their actions in the war. Harry had felt a sense of obligation to speak on behalf of the Malfoys, particularly Narcissa and Draco. They had each saved his life in a moment where they could have easily turned him over. For that Harry was grateful, so it only made sense to him to help in any way that he could lessen their sentence.

The Ministry had ruled with placing Lucius under house arrest and both Narcissa and Draco were dropped of their charges. In the courtroom Harry remembered looking across to see Narcissa wrap her son tightly in her arms. She kissed his cheek, tears streaming down her face and Draco held her tightly in return. Then, the blonde man looked up from his mother and his eyes met Harry’s. He smiled. It was the first genuine smile Harry had ever seen from the man. In that moment he knew things were going to be different from then on.

Which was why Harry was now walking up the steps of Malfoy Manor. Weeks had passed since the trial, where he was unpacking his belongings into Grimmauld place, when he found it. Wrapped in a black velvet cloth was the hawthorn wand of Draco Malfoy. He knew immediately when he saw it what he had to do. Now, running his fingers absentmindedly along the smooth wood, he wasn’t so sure. What if Malfoy wouldn’t appreciate the gesture? What if he thought Harry was here to gloat? Still, there was only one way to find out.

Harry took another deep breath and lifted his hand to knock upon the ornate door of the manor. Within a matter of seconds a house elf appeared holding the door open very slightly. “Hello mister…” the elf’s eyes widened in shock as she registered who was standing before her. “Mister Potter, sir! Please come in!” she squeaked.

He smiled, looking down at the elf as he now stood in the entrance hall. The elf beamed, “Please sir, let me take your cloak!” She held up her tiny hands and Harry obliged. With a snap of her fingers the cloak whisked itself into a closet down the hall to the left. She smiled at Harry and asked, “What is sir Harry Potter doing here at Malfoy Manor today?”

“I’d like to speak to Draco Malfoy,” Harry replied. He smoothed the front of his shirt down, hoping he didn’t look too underdressed without his cloak. He was thankful that he did at least decide to wear a nice button down shirt paired with fitted trousers. 

The elf eyed him carefully before asking, “Is something wrong? Master Malfoy isn’t in trouble is he?”

Before Harry could answer, he heard a door slam from upstairs. “Mibby! Where are you?” a voice shouted. “Where is my cloak that I picked out yesterday? The matching tie has gone missing as well!”

The house elf squeaked, and vanished in a pop. Harry stood in the foyer overhearing their conversation. “Master Malfoy, I will bring cloak in a minute, but--”  


“But WHAT, Mibby? What could possibly be more important that you ignored my calls for the past few minutes?” Harry heard Draco Malfoy ask the elf in an irritated tone. Harry tensed, knowing all too well the feeling of Malfoy’s wrath.

“Master Malfoy, sir Harry Potter is here to see you!” Mibby exclaimed.

There was a moment of silence, followed slowly by Malfoy asking “What?” Harry could hear the surprise in his tone, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. He found this situation to be very amusing. “He’s here?” Malfoy asked in disbelief. 

“Yes Master!” the elf confirmed. “Would you like me to bring him to you?”

“Well yes…of course,” Malfoy responded, in a quieter voice. It was almost as if he didn’t believe this was at all happening. “I will be in the drawing room down the hall,” he informed the elf and Harry heard his footsteps retreat and fade.

Mibby popped up next to Harry shortly after, and started to drag him up the staircase. “So sorry, sir Harry Potter. Master Malfoy is surprised to see you. I didn’t remember an appointment for today. Please forgive me!”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh no, you didn’t forget an appointment. I didn’t have one. Please, it’s quite all right.”

The elf dropped Harry’s hand once they stood in front of the door to the drawing room. She knocked on the door. They heard Draco call, “Come in.” And with that, Mibby gave Harry a courteous bow and apparated away.

Harry opened the door and instantly saw Malfoy sitting across the room in a luxurious armchair by the fireplace. The blonde stood up as Harry walked into the room, and he could feel the waves of nerves wash over him. Malfoy tilted his head thoughtfully, his eyes traveling up and down Harry. “Potter…” he spoke carefully, a familiar smirk starting to form across his lips, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He felt his hands start to sweat, and Harry frantically tried to rub them casually along his trousers. He had no idea where these nerves were coming from, and began to chalk it up to the intimidating atmosphere of Malfoy Manor. The house was so grand, and Harry felt really out of place and uncomfortable. His discomfort had nothing to do with the man in front of him who was staring intently into his eyes--yes, he was most certainly not nervous about that.

“I…” Harry began, suddenly at a loss for words. His mind was starting to whirl, bringing up memories of their past rivalry. He was trying to make sense of the situation before him. They were no longer school boys throwing curses at each other, and he had no idea what to classify their strange relation now. They couldn’t possibly be enemies any more, but they certainly weren’t friends either. It was just awkward.

Malfoy’s eyebrows rose as Harry remained speechless. The man took a few steps towards Harry and then asked, “Potter, what are you doing here?” The tone of his voice was not bitter, which was strange in of itself. It sounded more curious than anything else.

He ran his hands nervously against his slacks again, and that is when he felt the wand against his fingers. The contact of the wood jolted him and Harry finally remembered what he was here to do. He reached inside his pocket and withdrew the ebony wand and held it up in between them. Malfoy’s eyes traveled from Harry’s to focus on the wand before them. “I wanted to return this,” Harry managed to say.

Malfoy stood there for a minute, letting the moment sink in. He began to chew thoughtfully on his perfectly shaped lips in contemplation. Then he took a few more small steps towards Harry and reached up for the wand. “Thanks, but…” Malfoy began, not barely a foot away from the other man. “How do we know the wand will respond to me now?”

Green eyes locked with grey. Harry never really noticed how striking those eyes were before. At this proximity he could see a hint of blue mixed with the grey, and it reminded him of the lake at Hogwarts, frozen delicately with patches of ice in the chilly winter months. He was so lost in that stare that he jumped when he felt Malfoy’s fingers wrap around the wand Harry was holding. Their fingers brushed against each other and Harry felt a spark along his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was from the magic humming within the wand or the contact of Malfoy’s fingers. 

“Wait,” Harry called out, cutting through the tension that he could feel building up between them. He remembered vaguely about the concept of wand loyalty, and had pondered what would happen. If Harry simply gave the wand back, there was a chance the wand would not recognize Malfoy. “I can’t just give you the wand,” Harry said simply. “The wand might not remember you.”

Malfoy let out a breath he had been holding, and Harry felt it caress his face. They were standing so close, and Malfoy tightened his grip along the wand and the other man’s fingers. “What do I have to do?” he asked. He took one last step, closing the distance between them. Their chests pressed against each other and Harry could feel Malfoy brace himself.

His stomach fluttered, feeling the new contact. If Harry had thought he was nervous before, it was nothing to like how he was feeling in this one moment. He knew what they had to do, he just only hoped Malfoy wouldn’t go overboard with the idea of fighting him for the wand. He was in no mood to be hexed at or punched at for some sort of strange truce he was trying to hand over to the other man. Harry sighed, looking from their joined hands to silver pondering eyes. “You have to take it from me,” he replied.

A moment passed and Harry felt his heart starting to beat frantically. Then in the blink of an eye he watched as Malfoy’s lips quirked up into the biggest smirk. “I think I can do that,” he taunted. And before Harry could respond, he was slammed against the wall. He gasped in alarm, gripping the wand tighter as Malfoy raised his other hand, heading straight for Harry’s face. 

Here it was. Harry closed his eyes quickly, waiting for the inevitable feeling of a fist crunching into his skull. He could fight, he could defend himself. But for some reason, he just didn’t want to anymore. He was tired of fighting and the sooner this was over, the sooner Harry could move on to the next thing. Part of him secretly hoped by returning the wand he would begin to think less of the other man. He never seemed to be able to control his wandering thoughts, ever since 6th year when he began following the blonde. Perhaps his obsession with Malfoy would come to a close and he could get on with his life. This was the closure they needed, certainly.

Then he felt it. Lips brushed against his tentatively and before Harry could even register what was happening, the kiss deepened. Malfoy pressed his lips harder against Harry and he couldn’t help but cry out in surprise. The blonde took that opportunity to run his tongue along the other boy’s lips and slip inside hungrily. Harry heard a groan and he wasn’t sure who made the noise, but he secretly hoped it wasn’t him. That was something he really didn’t need to happen right now.

He felt Malfoy’s other hand snake up into Harry’s hair. He tugged roughly on the mess of black stands, and this time Harry moaned uncontrollably. The feeling of Malfoy’s lips, tongue, fingers, chest…it was just so overwhelming. His body responded eagerly for the other boy, and he wanted nothing more than him right then. Harry’s body began to relax as he leaned against the blonde and his hand unconsciously loosened around the wood of the wand, lost in the moment of Malfoy‘s perfect kiss.

Sensing a lowering of his defenses Malfoy skillfully pried the wand from Harry’s hands. He smiled against the other boy’s lips, slowly pulling away. “Thanks, Harry,” he whispered against his ear, before he coyly nipped the skin there.

Harry. He had called him Harry. Forget the wand. The other boy had never called him Harry. And hearing him say his name felt fantastic. 

Harry…Harry…

“HARRY!”

With a jolt, Harry awoke. Reality started flooding to the front of his mind as he looked around his bedroom. He tried to remember his vivid dream, but the details started disappearing rapidly, like water cupped in one’s hands. Malfoy had his wand. Malfoy…had kissed him.

“Harry! You have to get up now and get ready!” 

He blinked blearily and then reached over to the bedside table. He slipped on his glasses and Ginny came into view. She stood at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips. She was decked out in a Harpies shirt and nice dress pants, her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. She looked at Harry with concern, “Did you have a nightmare again?” she asked softly. “I heard groaning.”

Before he could help himself, his face flushed in embarrassment, and he pulled the covers up over his chest. Her eyes widened and before she could stop herself, she instantly looked southwards. "Oh Harry," she exclaimed, as she saw the unmistakable bulge through the bed sheets.

If possible, Harry flushed further, squirming uncomfortably under her stare. Guilt washed over him and he wanted nothing more than to disappear on the spot. He loved Ginny and this dream couldn’t have meant anything. This dream was just that, a dream, nothing else. You can't control what you dream of at night.

She smiled down at him, and then kissed the corner of his mouth. "As much as I want to do something about your problem right now, I have to get going to work." She turned and started to make her way to the door. "And you need to get up and get going yourself. James would hate it if you missed seeing his game..."

Oh right, today was Friday. It was his son’s first quidditch match of the season and it was a big deal, given that his older child was attending his last year at Hogwarts. Harry had promised him that he would make a point to attend every game possible, not only because it was his last year but also because he wanted to be more involved in their lives. 

Reality hit him when he watched them leave for Hogwarts. Time flew too fast and it seemed like only yesterday when he was watching James, then Albus, then Lily board the Hogwats Express for the first time. When he was last at the train station, he mourned that this would be the last time he watched James go off to Hogwarts for a new school year. Next year he would come of age, and venture out into the adult world. It was just too much for Harry to fathom, and so he made a promise to see more of him (and Albus and Lily). They were still his kids, and he wasn’t ready to let them go just yet.

He heard the floo whoosh downstairs as Ginny left the house. So he bounded out of bed and cast a tempus charm as he made his way to the closet. The game was going to begin in less than an hour, so Harry tried not to dwell too much on the clothes he picked out. He settled for a nice dark green sweater Ginny had given him for Christmas a few years back, some faded Muggle jeans, and a thick wool cloak. He was just about ready to head downstairs when he looked in the mirror. He frowned. Something was surely missing.

His eyes traveled to his reflection, then caught sight of the bright crimson and gold scarf hanging over the closet door. Ah, there it was. His face broke out into a huge smile as he wrapped the scarf around his neck snuggly and then headed for Hogwarts.

As he approached the quidditch pitch, he could hear the roar of the crowd fill his ears. The stands were decked out in their familiar red on one end, and brilliant blue on the other side. He was hoping he would make it in time to speak with his son before his match, but the horns sounded off and signaled the game was about to begin. Harry quickly made his way up to a Gryffindor stand where a lot of other parents were seated. He was saddened to see Hermione nor Ron were there. They must have had obligations at work.

The game began shortly after and the roar of the crowd was heard all around. Harry watched raptly as his son took off into the sky, the first chaser to have caught the quaffle. Within a matter of seconds he zipped through the other team, avoided a bludger headed for his shoulder, and fooled the keeper into thinking he’d throw the ball in one direction and was able to make the goal. Harry, along with the rest of the parents and some faculty members in the stand, stood to their feet cheering.

James made several goals that game, making it rather difficult for Ravenclaw to catch up. Their only hope for a victory would be the snitch, which seemed illusive as ever. The seekers of both teams flew high above the chaos of the game below, each hoping to spot the ball first. Then, there it was, the familiar glint of gold across the field. Harry spotted the snitch before the seekers did, fluttering near the Ravenclaw parent’s stand. He quickly looked up to see the Seekers both dive towards that end of the pitch. 

When he returned his gaze to where the snitch was, it had flown away. But another flash of gold caught his eyes. Pale golden hair that could not be mistaken for anything else. Seated directly across from him on the field was Draco Malfoy. Harry practically fell out of his seat in alarm. What was he doing here?!

It had been a few years since they had seen each other. Over the years they had come to an unspoken mutual understanding of sorts. Their kids attended the same school, so occasionally they saw each other at the train station. He would also hear about him in brief mentioning through Albus. Apparently Albus and Malfoy’s son (Scorpius was it?) had formed an unlikely friendship. And then other times Harry would notice him attend a few of his son’s games. This was not a Slytherin match, however. Why would he bother making an appearance?

“…Now both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dive in to catch the snitch--and Perry’s got it! GRYFFINDOR WINS!” the announcer boomed throughout the stadium. Harry’s whole side of the pitch erupted into a frenzy of excitement. He blinked, before bringing himself back into the moment and stood with the rest of the adults and began to cheer. James began to make his way towards the ground, flying past the stand and waved warmly at his father. Harry beamed.

Back on the ground Harry met up with James. “How’d I do, dad?” asked James knowingly, leaning confidently against his broom. His son may have inherited his talents from both his parents, but his pride in his quidditch skills reminded Harry so much of Ginny.

Harry smiled widely, “Oh come on,” he playfully made to punch him in the side. 

“You were fantastic!” Lily squealed, running up to hug James. He hugged her in return before she bounded to Harry. Her smile lit up her whole face as she said, “And dad! It’s so nice to see you! I’ve missed you!’ She wrapped her arms around her father as Harry patted her back soothingly.

“It’s nice seeing all of you, of course,” Harry continued, looking around the pitch to see students hurrying about in all directions--meeting up with their parents, friends, and heading up to the castle. “But where is Albus?” he asked, a small frown forming on his lips.

James rolled his eyes. “He’s probably with all the other Slytherins. Plotting on how they are going to win against me in the next match.”

“You know he’s not into quidditch like you are! He doesn’t care whether we win or his house does,” Lily said calmly.

“She’s right, you know,” Albus stated, walking up to them. Harry broke out into another smile for his second son. Even though it came as a slight shock to him that he was sorted into Slytherin, Harry was still very much proud of him. After all, one of the greatest men he ever knew was a Slytherin, and Albus was named after him. It was very fitting, actually.

“Well I’m sure your friend Malfoy is not happy about today’s game!” James exclaimed. “He’s probably furious.”

“His name is Scorpius,” Albus swiftly corrected his older brother. “And so what if he is? I can’t control his temper any more than I can control your arrogance!” Harry watched as his younger son folded his arms across his chest and stood tall, staring his brother down. He really didn’t come here to break up another fight between the two.

“Guys…” Harry warned.

“Please let’s just stop this!” Lily sighed, exasperated. Harry had no doubt that this was a common occurrence at school and that she was often caught in the middle of their bickering. He frowned in disappointment. What else was going on at Hogwarts that he didn’t know of?

As if to answer his question, the Ravenclaw seeker approached James and smiled fondly at him. “Good game,” she said sweetly to him. His son flushed then pulled her off to the side and whispered something quickly to her. She smiled knowingly at him before nodding and sauntering up to the castle. 

“What was that about?” asked Albus curiously, mimicking Harry’s thoughts.

“Oh her? That’s Roxanne Williams,” Lily rolled her eyes this time. “His girlfriend. Though the only thing they have in common is quidditch.”

“Well that’s very interesting,” an unfamiliar voice joined in the conversation. Harry turned his head in the direction and saw Scorpius standing next to Albus. Harry took a step back in alarm, taking in the image of his son with the other boy. The pair were practically spitting images of Harry and Malfoy. It was slightly unnerving for some strange reason.

He knew of their friendship before, of course. But this was the first time he was able to see the two of them so close to one another. Neither boy visited the other during the holidays (they never asked to, anyway), and when Harry would visit Hogwarts on the rare occasions, Albus would be sitting in the quidditch stands with him, while the younger Malfoy soared on his broom from up above. Seeing them standing side by side was another thing entirely.

“My father came to visit as well,” the young Malfoy went on. “He came on school board duties. He wanted to make sure the quidditch stands were still up to par.” His grey eyes looked over the pitch, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, he’s probably right. They may need to make some minor adjustments. Ever since that game last year against Hufflepuff, right Al?”

Albus grinned, wrapping an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “Yeah good thing I was there huh? You know Pomfrey is getting up there and her healing spells aren’t what they used to be.”

“God, don’t remind me.” He smiled back at Albus then continued, “You know, that’s probably something my father should hear about too.”

Harry snorted. He couldn’t help it. It was such a Malfoy thing to say. In this context it was just hilarious and brought back fond memories of Draco Malfoy shouting menacingly, “My father will hear about this!” He chuckled to himself, wondering if the older man still used that threat.

“Well dad, I’m getting kind of hungry and I still need to catch a shower before I go up to the castle. It’s been fun!” James interrupted his wandering thoughts. 

Harry nodded, and gave his son a quick hug in return. “Good game today, son.”  
“Thanks, dad,” he replied, before he turned and made his way to the locker rooms.

Lily sighed, a pout forming on her lips. “I guess that’s my cue to get going too.” She looked up at Harry and asked, “Stay for dinner?”

Harry hated to let down his daughter. But for some reason she always thought it was perfectly fine for her father to stay at the school for extended periods of times. He seemed to constantly have to remind her of why he couldn’t stay and each time he let her down it seemed harder than the last. “Now Lily, you know I couldn’t possibly…”

“But why not?” she asked, her tone raising. Her hands were on her hips now and her auburn hair was whipping across her face from the wind. She looked so much like her mother…

“All the other parents have left. I couldn’t just stay because I’m Harry Potter,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Lily, I don’t want to be treated any differently. Students and faculty eat in the Great Hall…no one else.”

“You know the headmaster wouldn’t mind,” she continued, ignoring what he just said. Harry’s irritation began to slowly rise. This was not going to be easy.

“You could come have dinner with us,” Scorpius joined in. Harry and his children looked at the blonde in alarm. He chuckled lightly, “No really. My father hasn’t left yet. He went to the greenhouses to check up on Professor Longbottom. But he told me when he gets back we’d go to Hogsmeade for dinner.” He paused, chewing on his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s sort of tradition, but I’m sure he won’t mind the extra company.”

Harry laughed, and couldn’t help the bitterness sound to it. “I highly doubt that.”

“Really dad?” asked Albus, his eyebrow raised. “You guys still hate each other?” 

“Well…no,” Harry frowned, thinking for a moment. How was he to explain this to his children, when he honestly didn’t know what his feelings for the other man were to begin with? He didn’t really hate Malfoy, but he really didn’t care for the man much either. It was just an indifference more than anything. He really hadn’t given it much thought lately. Today’s whole thoughts on Malfoy were highly unusual in themselves. Perhaps it was that dream. What was that dream about anyway? The details were getting really foggy and he could only remember Malfoy and a wand. It must have been a memory of when Harry took the wand from him, surely.

“Then it’s settled then!” Scorpius exclaimed, clapping his hands excitedly. 

“What’s settled?” The familiar voice of Draco Malfoy broke through the conversation. Without thinking, Harry’s eyes darted quickly up to look at the other man. Malfoy looked from his son to the other children, before resting his eyes on Harry. Harry could feel his stare rake over him before meeting up with his eyes. 

“We’re all going to dinner together!” Scorpius said cheerfully, ignoring the tension that his father brought to the group upon joining them. “And we better get going, because I’m sure Al is starving,” he smiled, poking Albus in the stomach. The other boy swatted his hand away playfully, grinning the whole time.

Malfoy looked at his son with Albus and sighed, bringing a hand to pinch in between his eyebrows. “Son, I know you want your friend to join us for dinner, and that’s fine. But making his father and sister join against their will…”

Lily interrupted, “No, we want to go!”

“Lily!” Harry called after her. He couldn’t believe she was really considering this. Did she really miss her father so much that she’d share a dinner with him and the Malfoys? He would need to talk about her to Ginny when he got home.

“Come on dad, it’ll be fun,” Albus whined, puppy dog eyes plastered across his face. Harry groaned inwardly. 

Draco Malfoy turned to Harry then, a smirk held firmly in place. “Well Potter, I guess our kids have decided for us. Would you like to join us for dinner?” His eyes carefully watched Harry, and his tone was only slightly playing.

“Er…I guess,” Harry nodded at Malfoy and gave him a weak smile. The other man smiled in return and Harry felt a churning feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was that because of this talk of food was making him hungry…or was that something else? Harry had no idea.


	2. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco take their children to Hog's Head for dinner. Afterwards, sparks fly.

The Hog’s Head inn and tavern had recently undergone a few changes throughout the years. Aberforth was reaching up there in his age and had to reluctantly look for a replacement to take care of the place. He still came by now and then, but Harry heard a much younger wizard was in charge of the place now. As they approached the building, he thought the place looked great. The walls were scrubbed, lights shining brightly through the clean windows, and a fresh paint made it look years younger. Harry could hardly believe this was the same place that he remembered from his childhood.

Malfoy and Harry stepped inside with their children, and the smell of various foods filled their senses. Harry felt his stomach growl as he looked around the room. Tables were scattered throughout the place, filled with a variety of patrons. There was an enormous fireplace in the back of the pub that was full of life and warmed him to the bone. He swung off his coat, and peeled off his Gryffindor scarf. 

“Blimey, Harry!” he heard a familiar voice shout from across the room. Harry looked up and saw his long time friend Seamus Finnigan bounding towards him. He was dressed casually in a flannel shirt, jeans, and a small apron wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh hey!” Harry grinned, reaching out to give the other man a hug. “It’s been, what, three years?” 

“Yeah, too long,” Seamus agreed, beaming. He motioned to the rest of the group. “Come on, let’s get you all a seat.”

“You work here?” asked Harry, following the man’s lead to a secluded table in the corner of the establishment. Harry draped his coat across his chair and sat down at the large round table. The rest of his group followed suit, with Malfoy taking deliberate care to fold his own Slytherin scarf and stuff it inside his coat pocket before handing the coat to Seamus.

Seamus gave Malfoy a smile as he took his coat and turned to put it on a nearby coat rack. “Yeah, been here a couple years now. Aberforth said the place is mine when he kicks the bucket.” He pulled out a notepad and pen out of his apron and nodded to Malfoy. “The usual, Draco?”

“But of course,” the blonde flashed him a knowing smile. Harry’s mouth gaped open in shock. 

Seamus chuckled, getting a look at Harry. “Harry, mate, what’s wrong?” he laughed.

Harry paused for a minute, recollecting his thoughts. “I just…I had no idea.” He looked between the two men, curious. Since when had they ever been on friendly terms? How did this come about? Why wasn’t Seamus at least a little bit bothered that he was having dinner with Malfoy of all people?

“Dad and I have been coming here for ages,” piped in Scorpius, helpfully. “He really does make the best food in all of Hogsmeade!”

“Can I have the bangers and mash?” both Lily and Albus asked at the same time. 

Seamus grinned, writing down their order. “Sure thing, kids!” He paused before looking up at Harry again. “And what about you? I hope you’re hungry. Esmeralda doesn’t make small portions…”

“Um…” Harry thumbed the menu on the table, looking it over. He hadn’t even had a chance to really look at it. He was so caught up in what was happening around him he honestly had no idea what he wanted to eat.

“May I recommend the fish and chips?” Malfoy’s voice carried across the table. His hand rested on the menu in Harry’s hands and he immediately looked up to the blonde across from him. Their eyes locked for a moment and he felt the heat rush up to his face. “I swear they are better than any you’ll find in England.” 

Harry noticed Malfoy’s hand twitch slightly atop his menu. Before he could ponder about it he heard Seamus ask him if that was what he wanted. “Sure, that sounds great,” Harry confirmed, nodding to his friend. The other man smiled at the rest of the table and said he’d be back in a few minutes with drinks. 

At this point Albus and Scorpius began talking about a Potion’s assignment in great detail. The school term had started not too long ago but they were already having to produce an extensive essay on sleeping draughts. “I can understand making dreamless potions,” Scorpius said, “But what’s the point in dreamful potions?”

Draco Malfoy shifted in his seat next to his son and replied, “Dreamful potions allow the drinker to have an abundance of dreams. Surely there are both good dreams and bad, but there are some people that would rather live through their dreams than any reality.” He looked up as Seamus approached, and gave him a nod. Seamus handed out drinks to the table quietly before he disappeared back behind the bar.

“That’s just depressing!” Lily cried.

“Perhaps,” Malfoy said in a quiet voice before he carefully took a sip of his drink. His drink was dark and probably alcoholic, Harry thought.

“Is there a way you can control which kind of dreams you have?” asked Albus wistfully. Harry was actually wondering this himself. He honestly had never heard of such a potion and wondered why he hadn’t before. Surely a dreamful potion could have been more useful during the war when gathering information from Voldemort.

Malfoy shrugged, “Not really.” The man paused for a minute before sliding his eyes from Albus to Harry. “You could try to go to bed in a good mood, and hopefully wake from a good dream. But even then, that’s not always the case.” He stared intently at Harry this time before going on, “Nightmares are inevitable. More often than not they show you your deepest fears. So if you dreamt of a loved one through a nightmare that would mean you care very deeply for this person. Doesn’t necessarily mean something bad would happen to them.”

Harry watched as Malfoy took another swig of his drink. He couldn’t help the words that came next, “Sounds like you’ve experienced that yourself,” Harry said.

Instantly Malfoy’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles turned white. Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “Potter, you have no idea,” he growled. 

Of course he would get defensive over what he just said. Harry leaned back in his chair, allowing more room between him and the other man. He obviously hit a sore spot and didn’t want Harry to pry into his personal thoughts. With the end of the war Harry had plenty of nightmares over the years; of course Malfoy probably did as well. It was insensitive of Harry to think otherwise. “Sorry for bringing it up,” he mumbled, twirling his straw in his butterbeer.

This time Malfoy’s eyes widened, but only for a minute. Taken aback by the apology, more than likely. Had Harry ever said sorry to the other man before? He couldn’t remember a time where the git ever deserved an apology. Well, except for the Sectusempra incident (which was a really long time ago). Harry couldn’t apologize then, but he could now? Perhaps time really did change a man. Granted, they had been sitting peacefully at the table for quite a while now and never once uttered a scathing insult to the other. The evening was still young.

“I wonder if we’ll have to try the potion when we finish brewing it,” Scorpius frowned, worried. 

Albus reached over and rested his hand on the other boy’s arm in a comforting gesture. “I don’t think it’d be all that bad,” he reassured him. “Besides, Professor Moonbrook wouldn’t put us in any real danger, I’m sure. We may just have to sample it, if anything. And a small sample wouldn‘t really do much of anything, honestly.”

The food appeared at the table shortly after and Harry’s mouth watered as the variety of scents filled his nose. His fish was lightly breaded and fried to perfection, laying delicately atop a mound of chips. The dish was the perfect balance of salty and tangy and Harry closed his eyes and let out an uncontrollable noise of approval as he took another bite.

A chuckle from across the table reached his ears and Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy staring at him. “I take it that you like it?”

Harry flushed before he finally responded, “Yes…it’s um, very good.”

Lily broke the moment by reaching over to her dad’s plate. “Oh let me try!” she began to help herself to some chips, plunking them into the gravy swimming across her plate. “Mmmm!” she hummed, eating them one by one. “I’m going to order that next Hogsmeade trip!” She proceeded to lick her fingers clean before grabbing her fork and stabbing another sausage on her plate.

Harry smiled at his daughter, not at all bothered by her table manners. Looking across the table he noticed the Malfoy’s were very precise in how they ate. Both father and son held their silverware properly, wiped their mouths with their napkins, and chewed quietly. Malfoy probably thought Harry was raising a bunch of heathens, and he let a small smile form across his lips.

The kids began another discussion about a formal dance that was going to be held at Hogwarts on Halloween. The ball became a yearly ritual at the school after years of demands from young wizards and witches from muggle families. Raised in muggle culture, these students wanted a prom of their own to attend at the magical school. This would be the third year such a ball took place and most of the students were very excited to attend.

“It’s a shame I can’t go,” pouted Lily, crossing her arms.

“What, why not?” asked Harry, pausing in between a bite of fish.

“I’m too young,” she sighed. “Just like last year and the year before. I can’t go till I’m a 5th year! It’s just not fair!” she whined.

Albus hummed thoughtfully for a minute, a finger tapping against his lips. “You could always go if a 5th year took you as a date,” he suggested. He leaned towards Scorpius. “Maybe we could find a boy to take her, what do you think?”

“Wait, I got it!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “Scorpius, take me!”

Scorpius and Malfoy gaped at her. Albus’s eyebrows shot up into his hair, and Harry tried hard not to laugh. Then Scorpius shook his head looking over at Lily, “I’m sorry, Lils. As honored as I am for the suggestion, I’m planning on asking someone else.”

Albus turned sharply to his friend, practically knocking his drink off the table. “What? Who?!” Harry watched as Scorpius turned a light pink in embarrassment. The young blonde turned his head away from Albus and began looking over at the fireplace across the room. “C’mon, Scorp,” Albus persisted. “You could tell me. You know I won’t laugh.”

“I’ll tell you later,” he mumbled, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“Is it Rachel Montague? I see the way you guys look at each other in quidditch practice…” prodded Albus.

“Oh, come off it!” Scorpius huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. Malfoy and Harry watched them with rapt attention. This was highly entertaining to them. 

Albus gasped then, clapping his hands excitedly. “Oh I got it! I know who it is!”

“I highly doubt that,” Scorpius snorted, rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Rose Weasley!” Albus practically shouted. Malfoy’s fork dropped out of his hand, and his head snapped to his son. Scorpius groaned inwardly, covering his face with his hand in frustration. Harry and Lily laughed.

Malfoy seemed to regain his shock for a minute and said calmly, “Son…”

“Oh for Merlin sakes, it’s not her!” he growled back. This time Albus laughed, looking between father and son. He knew just how they felt about the Weasleys and knew his comment was going to cause nothing but trouble. But he really wanted to know who Scorpius was intending to take to the dance.

“Thank god,” mumbled Malfoy, his eyes meeting Harry’s. “No offense, Potter.”

Harry smiled, taking his last bite of fish. “None taken,” he responded.

Seamus arrived at the moment and took everyone’s plates. He placed the bill in the middle of the table and said, “No rush, guys. Whenever you are ready.” He turned to Malfoy and asked, “Draco, another brandy?”

Malfoy shook his head, before taking his last sip. “No, Seamus. I better not.” Harry frowned, hearing the first name uttered from Malfoy’s lips. He knew Seamus probably addressed all his regular customers by first name basis, but for Malfoy to return the gesture? Just how close were they?

Once Seamus ventured off into the kitchen, both Harry and Malfoy reached for the bill at the same time. Their hands brushed and Harry felt a jolt of electricity from the contact. He snapped his hand back in quickly, alarmed. Malfoy followed suit, his whole face shocked. 

The moment was lost on their children, each of them bickering over the reading requirements some of their teachers harped on them. A second later, Malfoy quickly made for the bill before Harry could reach again. “Wait, I got it,” Harry said as Malfoy pulled out a coin purse. 

“Nonsense,” Malfoy waved his hand at Harry. “We invited you, so it’s only proper I pay.” Seamus arrived a minute later, taking the galleons out of his hand. Harry frowned, not liking the feeling of Malfoy of all people paying for his meal. He could certainly pay for him and his own children. Did he really think they were that unfortunate?

“We have money, you know,” Harry grumbled.

Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t say you didn’t. It’s called being nice, Potter. Ever heard of that?” he taunted, letting a familiar smirk play about his features.

The other man grinned in return, not missing a beat, “I’ve heard of that. Didn’t think you did, though.”

Malfoy rose to his feet, and went over and grabbed his coat off the rack. He wrapped his Slytherin scarf about his neck before replying, “Well that’s just one of the many things you don’t know about me.” The smirk he flashed Harry brought the other man back. He recalled that look years ago with a much younger Malfoy. He wore the same scarf, the same smirk. The only difference was his tone of voice. Back at Hogwarts he would try to appear threatening and insulting, now it was almost playful. If they were friends, their banter would have been seen as a term of endearment.

They all donned on their cloaks and coats, and Harry heard Seamus call after them as they left, “See ya next time, Draco!” Harry shook his head, his curiosity reaching new levels. He’d have to ask Seamus later just how the two of them could have even became friends in the first place. The situation was just strange.

They reached Hogwarts awhile later, the sun already setting across the grounds. The lights of the castle illuminated the night and the path from which they came. Harry was overcome with a nostalgic feeling, reminiscing about going back into Hogwarts and making his way up to the Gryffindor dormitory. 

“Thanks for dinner, Mr. Malfoy,” Albus smiled up at Draco Malfoy. The man nodded, his eyes distant. Clearly his thoughts were elsewhere. Albus turned to his father and gave him a hug. Harry kissed the top of his head without thinking. “See you around, dad,” he said, before backing away and making his way up the steps to the castle.

Lily hugged Harry next, her eyes glossing over and shining. “That was fun. We’ll have to do that again,” she yawned. Harry nodded, grinning up at her as she followed after her brother. “Goodnight dad,” she waved.

Malfoy had bid farewell to his son as well, and both parents watched Scorpius run up to Albus and wrap an arm around the other boy’s shoulder. Albus laughed, holding the door to the castle open for them and for Lily. Harry sighed, watching the boys go. The two of them looked so much like Harry and Malfoy when they were younger, it was like looking right into the past. A past that could have never happened, of course.

They disappeared, leaving the men standing outside the castle. The moment they were left alone, Harry could feel the tension increase almost instantly. It was bound to be like that. Without their children, they were simply Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Two adults with a rather complicated past.

The other man turned, starting to make his way back off the grounds. Harry quickened his pace, catching up to him. “Hey, Malfoy, wait up!” he reached for the other man, his hand gripping his arm. The familiar jolt raced up to where the contact between them settled. One second it felt like an electrical shock, the next fire. 

“Yes?” asked Malfoy smoothly, his eyes moving down to Harry’s hand that held him, then settled back on the other man’s face.

He could feel the magic radiating between them now. It was building up with such force behind it, Harry uncontrollably took a step back. Out of all the years he had working in the Auror department, he had never felt such strong magic before held under so much control. Harry braced himself, waiting for the inevitable explosion that would surely follow from such an accumulation of power. A moment passed in silence, Harry’s hand not moving from Malfoy. 

“Potter…” Malfoy said evenly, his voice not meeting the strain Harry could see in his grey eyes. 

“Do you…do you feel that?” Harry almost whispered. He was afraid of raising his voice, afraid of any sudden movements that would provoke the magic. His breath hitched in his throat, trying to keep calm, while he half expected to be thrown across the lawn at any minute. 

“Potter…” He repeated, an edge to his words now. Somehow Harry could feel the pain within his voice. Was this hurting him? 

Without thinking, Harry let go of his arm. Malfoy gasped, as if he was holding his breath. The magic whirled between them before sinking into both of them, absorbing into itself. Harry’s breathing came out ragged and uneasy. After awhile he gasped out, “What was that?”

Malfoy didn’t meet his eyes and turned away from the other man. He started to walk towards the gates again. “I don’t know, Potter,” he mumbled.

“Bullshit!” Harry huffed, following after him. Anger started rising to the surface, the feeling all too familiar when it concerned Malfoy. He reached for the other man again, but Malfoy quickly swerved out of his grasp. 

“If you don’t mind!” Malfoy growled, walking briskly through the gates. “I’ve got to return home now, and don’t want to be held up with you of all people!”

He was almost to the apparation point now. Harry made a quick decision. He pounced the other man, similar to how he would have tackled a criminal trying to run from arrest. Malfoy yelped, caught off guard, as the magic flashed back to life. Malfoy struggled underneath Harry, trying to break free from him. Harry pressed his weight harder down on him.

“Get the fuck off me!” he seethed, and Harry could feel the pressure of Malfoy’s magic pressing against his own. He could feel his magic trying to fling Harry off, but Harry’s magic was fighting just as hard against his.

“Tell me what’s going on!” demanded Harry, his face brushing against the other man’s soft blonde hair. He never knew Malfoy’s hair would feel quite like that. It tickled his nose. He felt Malfoy squirm again and Harry pinned the man harder into the ground, his hands on either side of him, preventing him from rolling away.

The magic was reaching new heights. Harry’s magic forcing Malfoy down, Malfoy’s magic pushing back, and the unknown magical tension that was overwhelming both of them. Harry was sure it was going to explode at any moment, and he wished Malfoy would succumb. He needed the other man to resist, to stop whatever this was at all costs. This felt dangerous and Harry was very afraid of the unknown tension reaching its peak. 

Then, it happened. A blinding flash of light erupted in between both of them and Harry blacked out. His subconscious began to take over…

Light slowly started to flood into Harry’s vision. He heard a voice. Someone was talking to him. “Harry…Harry,” the voice soothed him as he fluttered his eyes open. He was laying in a bed, a wet cloth rested on his forehead. He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Harry jolted upright, looking around at his surroundings. A firm hand pressed on his chest and forced him back down on the mattress. “What happened?” he groaned.

“He got away, Harry.” He began to recognize the voice. His gaze fell on Draco who was seated next to his bed. The boy held his hand, a frown forming on his face. “I never thought he’d follow in his father’s footsteps. I thought he would be like me…”

Harry sighed, reaching up with his other hand to stroke the blonde’s cheek softly. “It’s ok, Draco.”

He frowned, leaning into Harry’s touch. “Not really, Harry. How long do you think this will last?” He reached up and pulled the other hand away from his face. “They are going to keep coming. They won’t stop till you are dead. And now…and now Theodore saw me. He knows I’m with you!”

“Ssssh,” whispered Harry, sitting up on the bed once more. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against the other boy. He felt Draco’s lips tremble against his. 

“My father is going to find out…” he mumbled.

“I don’t give two shits if he does,” Harry said firmly, looking back into Draco’s eyes with a set determination. “He’s going to find out eventually. We can’t stay hidden forever.”

“He wants me to have an heir. I have to marry a pureblood.” Draco frowned, his eyes filled with worry.

Harry shook his head, pulling Draco up onto the bed with him. “You don’t have to do either of those things.” He ran his arms up to rest on the other boys chest. “Just trust me ok?“ he asked as he leaned in and kissed Draco again. He heard the other boy sigh happily, kissing him back with urgency.

The kiss lingered, Harry’s eyes shutting. He moaned, feeling the heat rise up their bodies. A familiar spark was felt across Harry’s lips. Then, in an instant, the kiss was gone. 

Harry opened his eyes quickly, looking around. The scene before him disappeared and he was laying on the ground in front of the apparation point again. His head was pounding as if he had just woken up from a long night of drinking. Draco was no where to be found. He reached up and pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips. He could still feel a lingering spark there.

After a moment of simply lying in the grass, Harry let his mind wander. Thoughts were racing throughout him. He remembered going to dinner with the kids and Malfoy. He recalled following the man from Hogwarts, grabbing his arm and feeling a magical presence like nothing he’d felt before. Then they were arguing, Malfoy was trying to get away. There was a light…and Harry woke up.

He had a dream. He could feel it barely there, but knew it happened. He dreamt of Malfoy again. Harry strained, trying to remember any details from the dream. He groaned, rubbing his temples, but it was no use. The dream would not come forward in his mind, and he could feel it delve deeper into his subconscious. 

He sighed, sitting up. The only thing he could remember afterwards was the tingle against his lips. It wasn’t a strong enough feeling to suggest he had been punched, and Harry confirmed as much as he ran his finger along his lips again. No, Harry was sure that wasn’t it. It was a subtle brush he felt along his lips, almost like a small kiss.

 _I must be going mad,_ Harry thought as he pulled himself to his feet. He brushed the dirt off his coat and steadied himself. Slowly he began to focus his thoughts on home and was able to apparate a moment later. With a pop, he was standing in the living room. He walked over and slipped his coat and scarf in the closet by the door.

“I was wondering when I’d see you,” Ginny smiled, leaning against the wall before the kitchen. She wore a floral apron, her hair now tied in a loose bun. Her dress pants were gone and replaced with pajama bottoms. Harry could smell something baking in the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Harry returned her smile, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. “Just got caught up with the kids. You know how attached Lily has been acting lately…”

They turned, walking into the kitchen together. “Well she was always a daddy’s girl,” stated Ginny, reaching for two bowls out of the cupboard. She bent down and pulled out a pie out of the oven. The smell was heavenly, but Harry was still very full from his dinner at Hog’s Head.

“I uh…actually, already ate,” he told her, frowning. 

She was about to scoop him a helping and stopped. Dropping the spoon inside the dish she turned, “Oh, well I wish you could have told me that sooner before I bothered making this!” she huffed in irritation. Waving her wand a minute later, the rest of the pie was packaged neatly and flown into the fridge. The pan it was cooked in dunked itself into soapy water in the sink. 

“I’m sorry, Gin,” Harry apologized again. He reached over to hug her, and she batted his hands away. 

She carried her bowl through the kitchen and Harry heard her walk up the stairs and retreat to her study. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Feeling like an idiot, he began to finish cleaning the dishes. It was the least he could do.

Afterwards, he made his way upstairs to the bedroom. Ginny was still in her study, writing over an article on the next quidditch match she was going to attend. He pulled off the rest of his clothes and sat in his own pajamas, starring thoughtfully out at the night sky.

He couldn’t help how his mind wandered back to Malfoy and what had happened earlier. He really wanted answers to his weird behavior…and that magic. A second later, and Harry was at his desk, rifling around for some parchment. He sat down a moment later and began to write a letter.

_Malfoy,_

_I had no idea what happened tonight. However, I won’t let you run away without some answers. I know you felt the same magic I did. What was it? Magic of that magnitude is hard to control and could prove to be very dangerous._

_Please write back, and don’t ignore this. Ignoring me won’t solve anything and I will get to the bottom of this. I just hope I’m not too late. I don’t want to get a call tomorrow that you blew up the manor and I have to go pick up the pieces._

_Harry_

He sealed the letter and handed it to their family owl. She nipped his finger’s in a loving gesture before she flew out the window and into the night. He sighed, watching her disappear behind the clouds. Then Harry turned and settled into bed. He pulled the covers up over himself, and thought about his dreams once more. He wondered why these dreams felt so much different than others in the past, and why he couldn’t seem to remember them at all. 

Yawning, he thought he’d ponder more about that in the morning. For now he simply let sleep take him again. This time, however, there were no dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listen to a lot of music as I write and each chapter is titled from a song I drew inspiration from. This song is titled _Spark_ from the Tori Amos song named as such. I found it very fitting to the tone of this story.


	3. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry dreams. He visits with a friend, then meets up with a new one. Things seem to be unraveling in every direction and Harry believes the whole world has gone mad.

Days passed and Harry had not received a reply from Malfoy. Harry wasn’t an idiot and knew the man was avoiding him. He was uncertain what his next course of action should be though. The man was illusive. He did not work directly in the public and instead performed extensive research for the alchemic community within his own home. If he would not reply to an owl, Harry doubted he would answer a Floo call either. His suspicions were confirmed when he tried to call him the next day. The network to the manor was blocked. It seemed the only way he could get through would be to visit Malfoy manor directly, and hope he would be granted access through the wards.

Harry debated whether he should use his power of Head Auror to set up a meeting to the manor. He could use the excuse of checking up on Lucius Malfoy’s indefinite house arrest, and then hope to get a moment of the younger Malfoy’s time. He figured the plan would be fool proof, and certainly catch Draco Malfoy off guard. Just as he was pulling up the report on Lucius however, he hit another road block.

He read the file over several times, not believing what was written over the scroll. Frowning, he rose to his feet and walked out of his office. He went over to Ron’s office and knocked on the door sharply. A moment later, his friend opened the door and looked curiously at Harry. “Hey what’s up?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Is this true?” he held up the file. Ron’s eyes scanned the page briefly before a dawn of recognition appeared upon his face.

“Ohh, yeah,” he replied, a small smile forming upon his lips. “That was ages ago though. I’m sure the git is still there too. Serves him right, if you ask me.” Harry frowned, stepping past Ron and making himself at home in his office. He sat down in the armchair across from his friend’s desk as Ron took the cue and shut the office door. “Mate, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting down in his own chair.

“Who’s idea was this?” Harry asked, his eyes trailing over the paperwork. He couldn’t believe the ministry would be so cruel as to change a wizard’s sentence unless further delinquent behavior was present. He flipped through the pages of the report and couldn’t find any other charges listed other than the crimes Lucius committed during the war.

“Blimey Harry, you don’t remember what happened?” Ron sat back in his chair, shocked.

“I’ve never heard of this!” Harry practically shouted. He was starting to get frustrated. “I’m sure I would have remembered this! Not every day we sentence wizards to the muggle world--and a mental institution at that!” He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ron shook his head quickly, “Harry, we didn’t come up with that.” He met Harry’s eyes, a solemn expression forming across his face. “It was his family.”

“What?” asked Harry in disbelief. “You mean he really is ill?”

Ron shrugged, reaching for a cup of coffee that was upon his desk. “I guess so. All I remember was that Malfoy came to the ministry one day and requested we move his father’s house arrest to that institution. He picked that one rather than St. Mungo’s because of the secrecy. He didn’t want the reporters going around spreading rumors.”

“You reckon he’s still there?” asked Harry curiously. He looked at the dates upon the file again. “They moved him 15 years ago? Has anyone been by to check on him?” 

His friend set his cup down, looking past Harry and thought for a minute. “I’m sure if anything new happened we would have heard about it. It’s safe to say he’s still there.” His eyes traveled from the wall back to Harry. “Why the sudden questions anyway, mate?”

Harry frowned, rising to his feet. He really didn’t know how to best answer that, and began to make his way to the door. Ron stood as well, looking over at him in confusion. “Oh, I don’t know,” Harry answered feebly. “I guess I was just curious I suppose. I saw Malfoy at Hogwarts on Friday. His son is getting close with Al also. Just wanted to make sure there was nothing to worry about…”

Ron nodded, accepting his answer. “Yeah, unfortunately Malfoy is clean as a whistle. Still doesn’t change the fact he’s a git. I’d have a talk with Al if I were you, I‘m sure his son isn‘t much better…” he trailed off.

He gave his friend a weak smile, reaching for the door. There was no use in trying to change Ron’s perception of the Malfoy family. Their family rivalry was deeply ingrained. Thinking back to that dinner at Hog’s Head, he didn’t think they were all that bad now. He wasn’t going to tell Ron that though.

Harry sighed, sitting back at his own desk in his office. He had no idea why reaching out to Malfoy was becoming such an important priority to him. Yes, he was an Auror, and it was his responsibility to prevent dangerous magic at all costs. But then there were the dreams. Even though he couldn’t remember them, he knew they involved the other man. There had to be a reason for that. Investigation after investigation taught Harry that no, things did not just happen. There was always a reason, and Harry was going to find out what it was.

A thought crossed his mind as he was running through his options of how to contact Malfoy. It was simple, really. He remembered how familiar Seamus and Malfoy had spoken to each other--perhaps the two had become friends. Maybe Harry could get more information from Seamus. It was worth a shot. He stood up and made his way to the room where the Floo connections were. Ron ran into him on his way there. “I’m taking off for the day,” he told him.

“Oh ok,” Ron said. “Still coming to mum’s tomorrow for dinner?”

Harry nodded, not slowing his pace to the Floo room. “I’ll see you then,” he waved back. Ron nodded in response and then made his way in the opposite direction. Harry sighed, stepping into the nearest fireplace. For a moment he felt guilty that he hadn’t confided in his friend over Malfoy and the strange magical connection between the two of them. But he knew it was wise to keep Ron in the dark. Surely his friend would jump immediately to conclusions that it was dark magic, intent on hurting or maiming Harry. 

He had felt dark magic before. Sure, this magic was certainly very powerful…but dark? No, it wasn’t or couldn‘t be. Dangerous, maybe. Either way, Harry thought it best to wait till he knew a little bit more about it before going to Ron. Maybe with more information, he’d be able to describe the situation to his friend a little bit better. 

“Hog’s Head, Hogsmeade!” Harry shouted clearly, throwing the dust in the fireplace. The familiar whirling feeling from his head to his toes encompassed him. The next moment he was back in the tavern, the smell of delicious food surrounding him again.

“Oi, Harry!” shouted Seamus from behind the bar. He was mixing a drink for a goblin seated across from him. Harry looked around quickly and noticed only two other patrons, an elderly couple seated off in the far corner of the room. It was late afternoon, in between lunch and dinner, so of course the restaurant wouldn’t be nearly as crowded as when Harry was here last.

He walked up to the bar and sat down a few seats away from the goblin, smiling at his friend. Seamus handed the goblin the drink and made his way over to Harry. “What’ll it be?” he asked, grinning.

“Oh um,” Harry chewed on his lip for a second, thinking. “Actually, I came to ask you about something...or rather, someone.”

Seamus’s eyebrows rose, “Oh? Is this for a case? Is someone in trouble?” he asked quickly. 

Harry sighed, looking past Seamus and at the variety of bottles behind him. Of course he would think it would be ministry business that brought him here. He was still wearing his Auror robes, showing up in the middle of the day. “No, no, nothing like that,” he reassured Seamus.

The man relaxed, “Oh right on. Well what’s going on?” he asked Harry. He began to get a rag and proceeded to scrub the surface of the bar clean.

“You’re friends with Malfoy, aren’t you?” Harry inquired, feeling his nerves start to rise as he verbalized the question. He didn’t know if the question would insult the other man or what, and he was really running out of options in order to get to Malfoy.

Seamus stopped scrubbing instantly. It took him a minute to look up from the counter and meet Harry’s eyes. When he finally did, he smiled feebly. “I guess you could say that,” he offered vaguely.

So Harry had been correct in his assessment. “I’ve been trying to contact him,” Harry offered up quickly. “Do you think you could give him a message for me? Or tell me where I could find him?” he asked hopefully.

His friend sighed, shaking his head. “Harry, I’m sorry. But he doesn’t want to see you.”

Harry’s stomach lurched uneasily. “He..what? He told you that?” he mumbled out. The room felt like it was starting to close in around him, and his heart began to race. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Harry needed to find a way to talk to him, he just had to.

His friend sighed again, looking at Harry sadly. “I’m sorry, Harry. But whatever is going on with you two needs to stop. It’s for the best, after all.” Seamus took a step off to the side and proceeded to wipe some wine glasses clean, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “I mean, what would Ginny think?” he added.

The thumping of his racing heart became silent. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. When he finally spoke it was with a quiet bewildered voice. “Ginny? What on earth are you going on about?” What did his wife have to do with Malfoy? 

Seamus stopped drying the glass in his hands, his eyes opened in alarm. He looked off to the side of Harry, biting on his lip nervously. Then he reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and a shot glass. He poured it quickly and handed it over to Harry. “Here, have a drink,” he offered.

He wasn’t born yesterday. Harry could see right through him. “I don’t want a drink. Stop trying to change the subject! What is going on?” He slammed the glass down upon the counter out in irritation. 

The other man sighed again, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Nothing is going on. I see that now. I said too much, clearly.” Harry crossed his arms and simply glared at him, not at all happy with those words. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. 

“Fine, ok!” Seamus leaned against the counter and said softly so only Harry could hear, “I just assumed the two of you were together, is all. I thought maybe he didn’t want to talk to you because you guys got into an argument or something. Now I can see that’s not it, so just forget I said it ok?”

Harry stared at him for a long minute, trying to register what was just said. Then he couldn’t help the smile that began to tug at his lips as he let out a small laugh. “Together? As in, like a couple? You do realize we’re married men? Married to women, right?” He snorted in amusement, trying to subdue the laughter that was trying to escape from his lips. He had never heard of anything more ridiculous. “Are you mad?” he asked a moment later, chuckling.

Seamus laughed nervously back, his eyes distant. “Right, sorry. Silly me.”

Harry stopped laughing instantly, letting it click into place. Seamus was Malfoy’s friend. Seamus thought Harry and him were a couple. As his friend, Seamus probably knew quite a bit about Malfoy that plenty of others did not. He couldn’t help the words that flowed from his mouth next, “He’s gay, isn’t he?”

There was a crash as Seamus dropped the bottle of Firewhiskey. “Shit!” he swore, bending down to pick up the pieces of glass that were all over the floor. Harry smiled again, knowing that was answer enough for him. He pulled out his wand and waved it wordlessly around. A mop came over and cleaned up the mess as the pieces of glass flew carefully over to a nearby trashcan. Seamus watched for a moment as his magic cleared up the mess, before he turned to Harry. “Thanks,” he expelled a breath he had been holding. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this, will you? Very few people know, and he’s going to kill me now that I told you.”

A thought crossed Harry’s mind. He grinned, “I won’t tell anyone. But you have to do something for me in return.” He reached for the shot glass on the counter this time. He took a swig before saying, “Arrange a meeting for me with him. He won’t answer my owls, floo calls, nothing. You can talk to him. Get him to meet up with me. Tell him I’m someone else, if you have to. I won’t hurt him. I just need to ask him a few questions.”

“I think that could be arranged,” nodded Seamus. 

Harry smiled, “Good.” He finished his drink and rose up from the bar. “Owl me the details when you can.” And with that Harry turned back to the floo and left the tavern. He stepped out of his fireplace at home, and plopped down in his favorite chair in the study. 

So, he might not know everything that was going on with Malfoy. But Harry felt like some of the pieces to the puzzle were slowly coming together. The man was gay and married to a woman. Had he always known he was gay, or was this a recent discovery? If he could hide this secret, what other skeletons were in the Malfoy’s closet? Would one of these secrets lead him to the answer of the powerful magical connection he felt a few days ago?

Well, it was surely a good start. Then he’d meet the other man and hopefully get the rest of the answers out of him. Somehow he didn’t think it was going to be a very easy task, however. Harry smiled, running his fingertip along his lips. Malfoy was always a challenge though, and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way.

That night when Harry went to sleep he had another sort of dream. In the dream he was flying on his old Firebolt, whipping through lush clouds. Soaring high above he could see all of Hogwarts. Sprout was leading a class to one of the greenhouses, Hagrid was walking with Fang along the edge of the forest, and Madam Hooch was with the first years out on the Quidditch field. Students were filing to and fro from the courtyard to the castle when Harry saw her. 

Ginny was sitting on a stone bench, watching him from below. She wore her traditional school robes, Gryffindor scarf hung around her shoulders. Her younger self waved at Harry, smiling brightly up to him. Without hesitation, Harry swooped down, aiming to land just beside her.

Then there was a crash as someone collided into him within the air. Arms, legs, and brooms were tangled into a mess, falling quickly. He could see the flash of white blonde hair, green Quidditch robes, then the Hogwarts grounds getting closer and closer. Harry clenched his eyes, bracing for his inevitable death. He felt the wind slashing through them, whistling in his ears. 

The moment froze when he felt an arm wrap around his waist and pull Harry closer. Lips met his frantically, a spark jolting Harry to the bone. He wrenched open his eyes and saw Malfoy, holding him tightly, kissing him eagerly. Tears were streaming down his face as they fell to the ground. He hit the ground first, with Harry landing on top of him. Harry heard the sickening crack as Draco’s body hit the earth and blood filled his vision. There was red, so much red. Then darkness seeped into his vision and the last thing he heard was Ginny’s blood curdling scream.

Harry sprung up, sweating and panting. Breathing heavily, he whipped his head around the room and took in his surroundings. He was in their bed, Ginny still sleeping soundly. He sighed in relief, waiting for his heart to steady. 

He closed his eyes, running a hand along his forehead. Harry could see everything in the dream clearly. His broom, Ginny, Malfoy…and so much blood it made Harry sick to his stomach. He got up and made his way to the bathroom, and proceeded to wash his face with cold water. 

It had seemed like such a long time when he could remember his dreams. Granted, the dreams he couldn’t remember hadn’t started but a week or so ago. But prior to that, he rarely had any dreams. So now that he had a vision he could remember why couldn’t it have been a pleasant dream? Instead, he had a nightmare--one he was sure not to forget any time soon. He had seen Malfoy die, blood all over and his body barely recognizable from the fall. Harry felt his stomach lurch, and he bolted for the toilet.

After awhile he stood up, shaking. He heard Ginny’s alarm go off in the bedroom, stirring her awake. He knew she’d come in the bathroom soon, so Harry decided to turn the shower on and step inside. He pulled the shower curtain shut, not wanting her to see how sick he probably looked. The water ran over his body, briskly waking him up. He shuddered, letting the cold water calm him down.

Ginny must have slipped in quietly because the next moment Harry heard her say over the sound of the shower was, “Now don’t forget, we have dinner at mum’s tonight.” 

“Right,” Harry confirmed, running his hands through his hair under the stream of water. “Do you want to meet here or at the Burrow?”

He could hear her brushing her teeth, and it was a minute before she responded. “We’ll just meet there. I’m going to be on a pitch all day interviewing people--going to just be easier to apparate in rather than find a Floo.”

“Oh ok,” Harry nodded even though she couldn’t see him through the curtain. “See you there,” he added.

“See ya, Harry,” she said.

“I love you,” Harry called, but she had already shut the door to the bathroom and was on her way. Harry sighed, then shivered a second later. Having calmed down from his dream, the water was starting to bite at his skin. Shuddering, he turned it off and stepped out to quickly get dressed.

The rest of his morning was spent in a grueling meeting with several other Ministry department heads. Every quarter they would discuss the muggle world and its relations with the wizarding world. Muggles were adamant at coming up with various new technologies and it was their jobs at the Ministry to make sure the secret of their own world would still remain intact. After the third or fourth meeting of this sort, they started to all kind of blend together and it wasn’t long before Harry started to dread them.

What seemed like years, the group finally broke for lunch. Yawning, he stretched out of his chair and proceeded to go to his office. He sat down and began to take a bite out of his turkey sandwich he made that morning. He paused before the bread touched his lips and turned the sandwich over. Mold had started growing on the bread. He groaned, throwing it back into the brown sack. 

“I’m going out for lunch, take any messages for me will you?” asked Harry, passing his secretary along the way. She sat at a nice sized desk, sipping her coffee and going through files. Her name was Jennifer and she was 10 years his junior. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Potter,” she hummed, not taking her eyes off her parchments piled upon her desk. He knew when he’d return she’d still be where he last saw her, delving further into her paperwork. She was a notorious workaholic and extremely organized. That’s why Harry seeked her out over any other applicants. It also helped that she could care less if Harry was the boy-who-lived-twice or a three-headed fish. His history was of no concern of her and he had found it very refreshing.

Later on he was stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron completely stuffed. He had a delicious cup of soup matched with an even more tasty sandwich. He strolled past the lane, passing by shoppers carrying all sorts of things. Harry heard doors chiming as people flew in and out of stores and the clinking of galleons being exchanged. He briefly paused to admire the latest model of broomstick. It had been so long since he had flown.

Maybe…no. Harry’s mind wandered back to last night’s dream. No, he wouldn’t fly any time soon. Shuddering, he turned away from the beautiful Quidditch display. His eyes returned to the alley and that’s when he saw her. 

Astoria Malfoy was in the robe shop across the street, shaking her head at a saleslady. She wore her hair longer with darker loose curls. Her attire was always on point, elegantly selected and custom sized to perfection. With her wealth and status in the Wizarding world, people (especially of any muggle background) began to compare her to the Duchess of Cambridge. Harry could see the striking resemblance immediately and the memory of her was ingrained in his brain. Even though the two had never spoken a word to the other, she was unmistakable. 

She stepped out of the store a moment later, her head held high. Her eyes roamed the street before they settled on Harry. He stood there, dumbfounded. She smiled, crossing the path up to him. “Well, good afternoon Mr. Potter,” she smiled sweetly.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy,” he replied back, feebly. What was one supposed to say in a situation like this? Please make sure your husband doesn’t ride any brooms lately, will you? he thought.

“I was just looking for a formal robe for Scorpius. Have you picked out Albus’s attire yet?” she asked, meeting his eyes. He noticed her eyes were green as well, just not as vivid as Harry’s. Scorpius clearly resembled his father completely, because no one would have even known that was her son by simply looking at the two of them.

“Oh, no,” Harry shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure if he’s even going. He hasn’t told me if he is going to take anyone.”

Astoria flashed him a knowing smile, “I’m pretty positive that my son will get him to go. Those two are inseparable, you know?”

Harry thought back to them at Hog’s Head, and returned her smile. “Yes, I guess they are.”

“May I make a suggestion?” she inquired. She rifled through a shopping bag and held up a sample of fabric up to Harry. She looked from the square of velvet to his face, smiling. “Oh yes,” she thought out loud.

Harry unconsciously took a step back, feeling a bit uneasy of her stare. He hadn’t been stared at quite so intently since well--a few nights ago with her husband at the Hog’s Head. This was getting really weird. “Sorry?” he asked, trying to interrupt her thoughts.

Giggling, she put the sample back in her bag. “Green, pick out green robes for him. They’d go exquisitely well with his eyes. Not grass green, but more a rich emerald. Madam Malkin’s is all right, but if you want I could show you a place in France that makes the world’s best dress robes. I think that’s where I’ll have to go get Scorpius’s robes. The woman in there and I could not see eye-to-eye,” she rolled her eyes over at the store she just came from.

He stared at her, taken slightly aback. As the conversation went on it started getting more strange. Had he just been invited to go shopping with Malfoy’s wife? Harry highly doubted Ginny would appreciate him going off to France with her, and probably Malfoy wouldn’t like the idea either. Well, with the new knowledge of Draco Malfoy’s sexual orientation, maybe he wouldn’t care one bit if he did. Still, it was just bizarre. “Mrs. Malfoy…” he began.

“Oh, please, call me Astoria!” this time her hand came out to rest on Harry’s arm. Her face brightened, as she gave him a wide grin. “I’d rather skip all these formalities, wouldn’t you? I mean, I have a feeling we are going to see each other a lot more frequently now, don’t you?”

“Mrs…er, Astoria,” Harry gasped out. Was she flirting with him? He began to sweat nervously, looking around the lane. This was just what he needed, to be caught with an overly-friendly once-enemy’s wife. “What on earth are you inferring?”

Laughter filled his ears as she removed her hand from his forearm. Harry breathed in relief as the skin contact was removed. “My God, you and Draco are so clueless. It’s cute, really.” 

He felt the heat rise up his cheeks and settle somewhere near the tips of his ears. “Excuse me?” Harry asked, flushing. He couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or embarrassed.

Her eyes scanned the alley, happily noticing they were alone as the lunch rush had died down moments before. “I’m pretty sure I know who my son wants to take to that ball,” she continued on, her eyes starting to sparkle. Her face beamed and she added, “And I’m also pretty sure that when he asks, that the other boy will say yes.”

For a moment they stood in silence. Harry let the words sink in. Then, it hit him, and it had all made sense. Their closeness, their frequent gestures of friendship to one another. There was rarely a time during which Albus was not speaking about Scorpius. He hadn’t thought much of it, but now, with it thrown in his face like this…

“How can you be so sure?” asked Harry, dumbfounded.

“Oh, mother’s intuition. It’s amazing what we pick up on.” She flashed another smile at Harry before saying, “Plus, I found some drawings. My son loves to draw, but it seems his favorite subject as of late is your son.”

“Oh my god,” Harry gasped, bringing a hand to rest on his forehead. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Anyway,” Astoria wrapped her scarf a little tighter around her neck. “If they are going to the ball together, it may be wise to coordinate their robes, don’t you think? I’m sure that nothing would make my son happier.”

“Right,” he replied awkwardly. She made it sound like they were already walking down the aisle. Harry started to panic as that image popped into his head. Oh my god.

“Darling, I’ll owl you the details on my next trip to France. I’d be absolutely tickled if you joined me,” she giggled once more. Before Harry knew it, she leaned in to give him a brief hug and kiss on the cheek. “Oh, and your lovely wife is more than welcome to join us. That is, if she’s not busy on her next article for the paper.” With that, she turned from Harry and started to stroll down Diagon Alley. 

It was awhile before Harry could recover from the shock of what just happened. Reassured that he wasn’t going to faint any more, he quickly shuffled back to the Ministry. Predictably, Jennifer was still at her desk and hunched over a stack of papers several inches thick. She didn’t even look up as Harry passed by.

“Any messages for me?” he called, just before heading into his office.

“No sir, just your wife,” she hummed, finding the note she was looking for. “She said she’s running late tonight. The brief of your meeting from this morning is on your desk.”

“Thanks,” he replied, locking himself up in his office. He practically collapsed into his chair, sighing. The thoughts were almost starting to overwhelm him. He dreamt Malfoy had died. That he had died. Malfoy kissed him before he fell. Then there was the fact that Draco Malfoy really was gay. His son was possibly gay. Albus could be gay. As if that wasn’t enough, to top it all off, Draco’s wife wanted to go shopping with him--to celebrate their kids getting together.

Strangely enough, the last thought seemed the weirdest out of them all. Was the whole world going mad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named from the Muse song Madness. It felt like the perfect song for the tone I'm going with this story.


	4. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has dinner at the Burrow and is able to talk to Hermione about Malfoy's strange magical power. He has another dream--this one arguably worse (or better) than any he has had yet.

Every fortnight Harry found himself visiting the Burrow. And every fortnight he’d push back his chair from the dinner table, pat his stomach and argue with Molly about not having another piece of pie. He didn’t know what it was about women (specifically mothers) that insisted it was their duty to feed their children till they couldn’t walk anymore. Molly had always been this way, but Harry had also noticed Hermione picking up the same habits. Even when Ginny was not busy with work, she liked to cook more food than what anyone could possibly eat. 

“Well if you won’t have any more pie, how about a cup of tea?” Molly asked, getting up from the table and heading for the kitchen.

“Tea sounds great,” Harry responded. He stood up from the table as well and helped Ron gather up the dishes and silverware. They put the dishes on the kitchen counter near the sink, where a sponge was floating around scrubbing some dirty pots and pans. 

Without thinking, Ron and Harry then went into the living room and sat down by the fireplace. Hermione was already there, sitting in her favorite leather armchair. She smiled up at Harry, “So how’s it going? Don’t think I had a chance to ask you…and then dad started on about cell phones, and that was that.” 

Harry and Ron laughed, remembering Arthur’s enthusiasm. “Y’know how he is about Muggle inventions,” he smiled, running a hand through his hair. “But eh, I guess things are going ok.”

“You guess?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at Harry curiously.

Uncontrollably, a small frown fit across his lips. Of course, there were a lot of things going on. Harry just didn’t know where to begin, and what to say. He also didn’t know if things were wrong or ok, or whatever. He was still trying to figure that all out. Perhaps he’d get answers soon…especially in regards to that magical energy. Then the dreams…that was another story.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice rose above his thoughts. 

“Oh, what? Sorry.” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the fireplace. How long had he been staring at the fire there? When he turned to look at Hermione again he noticed Ron had left her side. A moment later he heard Ron’s voice travel from the kitchen, talking to his mother about something.

“Ok now, what’s up?” She stood up from her chair, hands on her hips. “I know when you’ve got so much on your mind that you can’t even function. Please just tell me, Harry.”

He sucked on his lower lip, chewing thoughtfully. Perhaps Hermione’s counsel was just what he needed at the moment. His friend was brilliant and (unlike the other Weasleys) she was married into the family. Her disdain for Malfoy was only based on personal history, not decades of family bickering. Perhaps she’d be able to offer some insight on the magic without jumping to conclusions and thinking Malfoy was out to get him.

“Well, there is something going on…” he started to say, meeting her eyes. She sat back in her chair, staring intently at him. “I’m just not sure what is happening, honestly.”

As if reading his mind she said simply, “Would you like some help?”

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. A second later he nodded, “I think that might be a good idea. It’s just…” He paused, eyes traveling over to the door that led into the kitchen. He plunged ahead, “It’s about Malfoy,” he whispered.

Her eyes boggled for a second, then she looked over to the door too. “What about him? Harry, I haven’t seen him in ages. Haven’t talked to him since we were kids. What’s going on?” She said all of this in a rushed quiet voice, cautious of where they were. Hermione knew that the last thing she needed was for her husband to come storming in the room, growling about Malfoy. That would no doubt derail Harry and she’d might never know what was bothering her friend so much.

“He just…Hermione, there’s this magical energy I felt. It was so powerful--so overwhelming.” Harry frowned, recalling Malfoy and the grimace along his face as the two of them stood so close. “It’s almost like…he’s trying to control it all. I don’t know if he can--I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself or something.”

Hermione gaped at him, and at the moment Ron stumbled into the room. He was carrying a tea kettle with three cups. Both of them looked to Ron then back at each other. Harry looked desperately at her, silently pleading for her to keep this new information to herself. She nodded in response, and smiled at Ron as if nothing had happened. She took the cup he offered her and sipped gratefully. “We can talk more about that later, Harry, if you’d like,” she offered. 

Harry nodded and took a swig of his own tea. “Yes, I’d like that.”

He didn’t have an opportunity to speak more with Hermione on the subject that night. The rest of the family piled into the room and sat around the fire, telling stories into the wee hours of the night. Ginny showed up towards the end, as most of the group starting yawning and getting ready to leave.

“Sorry I missed dinner everyone,” she said, walking into the room. Her lips pouted and her eyes appeared weary. “They wouldn’t even let me go for the night. The Canon’s manager was so impressed with my interviews he insisted on treating me to dinner. He and the whole team were there, and I just managed to get away.”

“Oh no problem sweetie,” Molly smiled at her daughter. “Harry told us you were going to be running late. We all understand. There’s always next time.” She crossed the room and stood in front of Ginny. Extending her arms out she gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head. “Now, you look tired. You and Harry should head on home and get some rest.”

They bid their farewells and shortly after Harry and Ginny were stepping out of the fireplace of their home. Ginny stretched her arms over her head and yawned deeply. “Want any coffee?” she asked, turning to go into the kitchen.

“Oh no, I’d better not. I should really get some sleep.” He looked over at his wife and saw the dark circles under her eyes. “Gin, you should probably come to bed too.”

She shook her head quickly, long strands of red hair flapping in front of her face. “No, I have too much to do. Gotta proofread that article and finish writing the exposé on broom hairs from last week.” Ginny was in the kitchen now, boiling some water on the stove. Her hands were resting on the counter as she leaned in, as if she was too tired to hold herself up.

Harry came up from behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He gently nuzzled against her neck, kissing her lightly there. Even after all these years, he could hear her breath hitch from the caress. “Please come to bed?” he asked, pulling her closer to him.

She stiffened in his arms. “No, Harry, I can’t right now,” she said firmly. 

“We could..y’know…” Harry ran his hand up playfully from her waist to stroke under the skin of her shirt. It had been awhile since they had made love and Harry was starting to get just a little over eager for the next time it would happen. 

Sighing, she reached up and moved his hands away. “Not right now.”

“Right, ok.” Harry had backed away from her now and was headed out of the kitchen. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. However, Harry knew Ginny inside and out and he knew not to push her too hard. Eventually she’d miss his touch and would come around. Then just like any other time, he’d be more than willing to give her what both of them so desperately needed. Ginny just didn’t need to have sex nearly as often as Harry wanted to--and frankly, he heard that was quite normal with married couples, right?

That night it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. Before his mind could take off in several directions, he felt his body take over. Falling deeper into the mattress, his mind drifted. A moment later, an image started to form at the beginning of his subconscious.

He was walking. The scene was familiar to him. Peacocks strutting across the lawn, flowers in bloom. The wind whipped past him and Harry felt his insides twist in anticipation. Looking up he saw the manor looming over the grounds, casting a large shadow across the gardens. He was almost to the front steps when a voice called him back. “Mr. Potter…what a pleasant surprise.”

Flipping around he saw Narcissa Malfoy standing up from an ornately carved wooden bench within the gardens. She wore an elegant gown covered in lace, looking as if she came from another time period. Harry bowed his head as she approached. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he greeted her politely. 

Standing in front of Harry now, she eyed him curiously. “May I ask what you are doing here? Have you come to check up on Lucius? I assure you he is still within the property line and has not broken his house arrest.” 

“No, no,” Harry quickly replied. “I’m not here because of Lucius. I am here because…well,” he felt his stomach lurch uneasily. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “I’m here to see Draco,” he finally mumbled out.

Eyebrows arched, she watched Harry carefully. “Oh really?” Her head was titled now, eyes roaming all over him as if sizing him up. “Yes, I heard you returned his wand. I hadn’t realized there was anything else you needed to tell him.”

Flushing deeply, Harry huffed out, “Mrs. Malfoy, please.” He had no idea what Malfoy’s mother knew about in regards to Draco and himself. He really didn’t want to go into any details--he didn’t feel it was his place. And really, Harry had no idea what was going on between them either. Hence the whole reason he was standing on the front steps of the manor right at that moment.

“Mother, you can’t protect me forever,” Draco drawled from behind Harry. He was standing at the top of the steps, looking down at both of them. “I’m not a child anymore,” he declared, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Harry looked up at him and saw that he was dressed in elegant dark grey slacks and a nicely pressed matching suit. The wind picked up at the moment and Draco’s silver tie fluttered around his chest, and a few strands of white blonde fell and framed his face. Harry stared on, never seeing anyone nearly as handsome as the man before him.

“Forgive me, son,” Narcissa smiled sweetly at him. “I was just making sure his intentions were pure. What with your history, I really didn’t want to have to break up a scuffle in the living room or anything like that.”

Her son had stepped down to them now, standing next to Harry. It was hard for Harry to remain calm and not step closer to the other man. At this proximity, Harry could smell a faint aroma of dry cedar and leather. He closed his eyes briefly, taking in the scent of Draco. Harry heard the man next to him say, “Mother, I assure you, we have reached an understanding of sorts.”

Harry was jolted out of his Draco-daydream when he felt the man grab him by the back of the arm. He was starting to lead them up back into the manor. “Come, now, Harry. I’m sure you have quite a lot of questions to ask me.” They were standing at the grand doors now, and Harry felt his heart begin to race. Draco held the door open for him, and gave him the biggest grin Harry ever saw. Shocked to the core, Harry stumbled through the door. _I’m in so much trouble_ , he thought.

Draco didn’t let go of his arm, and in fact kept leading him throughout the house. They climbed the grand staircase and proceeded down a vast hallway. They passed several portraits along the way, each of its inhabitants looking at the pair with rapt interest. Draco seemed not to notice, nor care. At last they reached the end of the hall and he led Harry into the room.

The room, Harry quickly found out, was Draco’s personal bedroom. A large four poster bed was centered along one wall draped with dark green silk. Ornate couches and an armchair were seated in the opposite corner in front of a fireplace. Several large bookshelves lined another wall and a grandeur desk carved out of ebony wood settled nearby. At this point, Draco had let go of Harry’s arm and moved into the room and seated himself upon one of the couches near the fireplace. He watched Harry curiously for a moment before breaking the silence, “I’m sure it’s not what you expected.”

Harry took a few hesitant steps within the room, looking at his surroundings. “No, it’s not that…” he replied, not really knowing where his mind was going. He was just taken a little off guard, being in Draco’s bedchambers. He was sure they would go back to the study, the room where it happened. The room where Malfoy kissed him, took the wand from him, and left Harry completely breathless and wanting more. 

“Granted there’s no torture devices or chains along the walls. If that’s what you want, Potter, I’m afraid we’ll have to go down to the dungeons for that,” he playfully added. 

Harry felt his insides twist and his palms started to sweat, his mind traitorously coming up with images of him and Malfoy chaining each other up. _Oh my god, what’s wrong with me?_ He quickly shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Harry looked over at Draco and saw the man leaning casually along the couch. Their eyes met, and a smirk started to form upon the other man’s lips. Malfoy waited a minute then patted the cushion next to him. “Come here,” he told Harry.

Not a moments hesitation and Harry was sitting next to him. Draco wasted no time sliding closer to him, making sure that their thighs rested against each other. The contact of their legs brushing caused Harry’s face to burn. “So…um…” Harry tried feebly to say what was on his mind. It was proving next to impossible, especially when Draco took that moment to rest a hand on his knee.

“Yes, _Harry_?” Draco made sure to stress his name in a tone of voice that was highly suggestive and teasing. God, Harry couldn’t remember anything sounding so good before. He knew he wanted to hear him say his name again and again, preferably pinned underneath Harry. He tried to suppress a groan as Draco took that second to slide his fingertips along his knee and move slowly up his thigh.

His breath caught in his throat, feeling Draco’s hand traveling up his leg. Harry was getting ridiculously hard, his pants tightening to an uncomfortable level. He closed his eyes, leaning back on the couch and trying to relax as Malfoy teased him mercilessly. “Malfoy…you….you kissed me,” he choked out.

His hand stopped its climb up Harry’s leg. Draco’s eyes widened as he looked over at the other man. “Are you complaining?” he asked quickly. 

Harry opened his eyes, meeting green eyes with grey. “No! No, of course not,” Harry quickly replied. He smiled shyly, before darting his eyes to look over at the fireplace. “I just…wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I mean, you and I--aren’t we supposed to hate each other or something?”

Chuckling filled Harry’s ears. He turned to watch Draco shaking his head. “I think I never truly hated you. Not going to lie, you are quite irritating at times. There were plenty of times I wanted to just bash your head into the nearest wall…but there were just as many times I wanted to fuck you against the nearest wall too.” His grey eyes roamed over Harry’s whole body after that comment before he continued, “I never hated you. I hated myself and the feelings I had for you. I took out my anger on you because it was just easier that way…”

It was beginning to all make sense. His mind whirled, taking in the new confession. He could see all the past arguments, the curses and taunts thrown at Harry, and finally his own voice ringing in his ears, _why didn’t you tell her--Bellatrix? You knew it was me._ The answer to his question was blindingly clear now. 

“Potter,” his voice cut through, bringing Harry back to the present. Draco was turned on the couch now, leaning into Harry. He had brought up his other hand to hesitantly rest it on the small of Harry’s back. “I’m telling you now, I’m tired of the games. I’m tired of pretending.” He pulled Harry closer to him now, their noses practically touching. “Aren’t you tired too?”

Harry’s eyes searched Draco’s. He could feel his stomach tangling in knots, his breath shallow and his pulse thumping in his ears. The hand on Harry’s leg moved up to hold his cheek, Draco’s fingers gently caressing the skin there. The heat upon his face burned as he whispered back, “Yes, yes I am.”

Not even a second later, and both boys were plunging forward, closing the distance between them. Lips met eager lips, their soft skin brushing and pressing against each other. Harry slipped his hands up into the soft strands of white blonde hair, pulling Draco further towards him. The other boy climbed into Harry’s lap, straddling him. A groan could be heard, neither knowing who made the noise. 

Draco broke the kiss first, but didn’t stop there. He was leaning over, placing hot kisses along Harry’s neck. The boy gasped underneath him, arching his back off the couch. Their chests slammed together, causing Draco to moan along his neck. “God, Harry…I’ve never…” A kiss, a lick later, “I’ve never wanted anything more.” The blonde’s hand was trailing from Harry’s chest down to his stomach, unconsciously trying to yank open the fabric of his shirt.

Instantly the shirt vanished, and both Draco and Harry pulled apart alarmed. “What the bloody hell was that?” asked Harry, looking down at his now bare torso. His face and neck were flushed beautifully, a few stray marks scattered underneath his ear. Draco grinned wickedly.

“I don’t know what that was, but it’s fucking brilliant,” smirked Draco, quickly moving to Harry’s exposed chest. Harry gasped again as Draco began to slide his tongue teasingly down his chest and stomach. His lips found Harry’s left nipple and he teasingly flicked the skin there. Harry’s eyes clenched shut, his whole body desperately losing itself to the incredible things Draco was doing with his tongue.

The blonde shifted his weight on top of Harry, and their hips crashed. Groaning inwardly, they felt the pressure below that was affecting both of them. Frantically, Draco slid slightly to the left, and then Harry felt his erection pressed against the other boy’s. Gasping instantly from the contact, both of them reached impatiently for the other. Fingers fumbling with waistbands and zippers and Harry wanted nothing more. 

Their trousers and pants disappeared instantly, much in the same fashion as Harry’s shirt. “Holy shit!” Draco exclaimed, taken completely off guard by the sudden feeling of exposure. Harry couldn’t help his eyes wandering down and looking directly at Draco’s exquisite hard cock. It was longer than Harry’s, but not nearly as wide. Nestled in between Draco’s strong, toned thighs, Harry thought he had never seen anything more perfect.

He reached for Draco’s length, his own smirk resting upon his lips now. “I think,” Harry began to say, grabbing a hold of the blonde’s erection, “We have a bit of wandless magic going on between us.” He leaned forward and captured Draco’s lips to his once more, leaving a playful bite upon his bottom lip. 

Draco couldn’t help the moans escaping his lips, especially as Harry quickened his pace of stroking him. He had wanted to reciprocate the incredible sensations he was feeling at the moment, but Draco was getting so lost in his own pleasure. It had been so long, too long--he had been pining for Harry for years. To finally have the boy--no, man-- doing God knows what to Draco, it was just too much for him to handle. He didn’t want the moment to end, and he struggled to keep from his inevitable release. 

“Harry…oh, _God,_ ” Draco practically whimpered.

“Say it again,” Harry moaned, his lips now all over Draco’s ear. He left messy kisses, his tongue tickling Draco. “Say my name again, _Draco._ ” Harry made sure to stress his name, the sound full of longing and possession.

Draco lost it. “Harry!” he screamed as he came. His whole body shuddered uncontrollably, his toes curling, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Draco’s eyes clenched tight, his fingers pulling tightly on the mess of black hair in his face. “Harry….Harry,” he repeated, his voice turning breathless as he rode out the end of his climax.

He collapsed against Harry shortly after, panting. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him close. He began to run lazy circles along his back, feeling as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. Draco shivered from the touch, before he turned his gaze back to Harry. His silver eyes bored into him, as if trying to read Harry’s mind.

A faint smile crossed the blonde’s face. “I’m going to make you feel as good as you just made me,” he purred, bringing his lips to meet Harry’s in a lingering kiss. Draco’s hand felt around for Harry and he gripped the other boy’s neglected length. Harry was still rock hard to the touch and also slightly damp as his erection was leaking in anticipation. 

He began to stroke Harry, slowly at first and moving to a more gradual pace. Harry couldn’t help rocking his hips back and forth helplessly--his movements causing the couch to skid across the floor. Bump, bump, bump, tap, tap, tap. Draco’s hand was slipping so fast now, and Harry was practically going to lose it. 

Tap, tap, tap. “Draco…Draco,” he moaned, feeling the pleasure rising. Tap, tap…more tapping. “Draco…Draco…what is that noise?” 

Draco kept up the pace, as if he hadn’t even heard him. The tapping became louder, insistent. Harry groaned out Draco’s name again, his whole body clenching from the inevitable release. His fingers slipped along the tip and Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He came loudly, gasping out, “Oh god…Draco.”

Shortly after Harry groaned again, rising up from the position he was in and he looked about the room. He looked around in alarm, noticing he was in his own bedroom. Draco…er Malfoy, was nowhere to be seen. Then there was the tapping. It was becoming more erratic and Harry looked over to the window and saw a regal looking hawk perched outside the windowsill.

Harry quickly stood up and winced, feeling the shift of his now soiled boxers rubbing along his skin. Harry looked down in horror, not really believing his body would react in such a way to some dream about Malfoy. What the hell had he been dreaming about anyway--to have caused such a reaction? Harry didn’t even know if he really wanted to find out. Part of him was scared of what that answer might be.

Tap, tap, the hawk rattled along the windowpane again. Harry sighed, going over and letting the bird inside. He swooped down into the room and found the perch near Harry’s desk. He presented a letter to Harry proudly. Harry took it and wasted no time tearing open the envelope. Inside was written in a very elegant scroll:

_Harry,_

_I have gone over my schedule and it appears I will have some free time this Sunday to go to France. I have already made all of the proper arrangements for travel by international Portkey. If you decide to accompany me, please let me know as soon as you can. I can arrange for a lovely lunch reservation at my favorite restaurant Les Tablettes._

_Also, it will be essential that you bring Albus’s measurements with you. More than likely we will have to place an order on their robes, but I see no reason why they will not be ready in time for the ball. Also, do not fret dear, if the measurements are slightly inaccurate. My personal tailor can make any minor adjustments where needed._

_You can apparate at the gates of the Malfoy estate. I will meet you there around 11. Draco has informed me you have been here before, so you should have no trouble finding the place._

_Please write back soon with your decision.  
Bien à vous,_

_Astoria_

Harry stared blankly at the letter for a minute, pondering what to do next. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to discuss this with Ginny yet. His wife had no idea of their son’s possible date for the ball, and Harry somehow knew she wouldn’t take the news as easily as Harry had. Harry had seen the two boys together--he saw the happiness they exuded off each other. He just knew the moment Harry would tell Ginny the news, she wouldn’t be able to look past the whole “Malfoy” thing. Her past prejudices would shine through, and (just like the other Weasleys) she’d instantly equate Scorpius with his father.

Scorpius was not like Draco. Hell, even Astoria was nowhere near like Draco. Both mother and son were friendly--so far from the cold aloof prick Harry grew up hating in school. However, Harry was not sure how he was going to convince his wife to see these things. Sighing, Harry sat down at his desk and read over the letter once more.

He reached for a quill and turned the parchment over. Dipping the pen in an inkwell, Harry had made up his mind. On the back of Astoria’s letter, Harry wrote:

_I will see you at the gate. -Harry_

He folded up the parchment again, and handed it back to the hawk. Without a second glance, the magnificent bird took off into the night. Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully, watching the hawk disappear into the distance.

Harry was going to go with Astoria. Not only would he be able to do something nice for his son, but he’d be able to get to know the wife of the illusive Malfoy. Perhaps, even if he was lucky, Harry would run into the man while he was visiting. Harry felt like he couldn’t possibly turn down such an opportunity. Who knows, maybe he’d be able to find out the answers he was looking for. He could possibly find out more about the magical force--and maybe even the dreams.

The dreams. Harry shut his eyes, feeling a flush form across his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he had woken up in such a state. Embarrassed, Harry reached for his wand upon the table and cast a quick cleaning charm on himself. He shook his head, trying to forget what had happened. _I don’t know what that was about_ he thought, _but whatever it was, it didn’t happen. And it didn’t mean anything._

Hesitantly, he climbed back into bed, praying that his mind wouldn’t wander to anything inappropriate again. It took Harry a long time to fall back asleep, simply because his mind kept thinking of ways to not think of Draco Malfoy. Eventually, Harry lost the fight--and when sleep finally took Harry, he could see Malfoy sitting across from him at Hog’s Head, smirking behind his glass of brandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter title is by Coldplay. Thank you to all who have taken the time to comment/kudo. I've written quite a few chapters already so I'm just trying to play catch up.


	5. You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione offers her insight. More is also revealed in the relationship between Albus and Scorpius.

His obsession with Malfoy was becoming quickly apparent. It had been years since he had thought of the other man in so much detail. There was actually very little difference between this and his time following Malfoy around during his last year at Hogwarts. As a teenager he was driven to insanity, trying to figure out what the other boy was hiding. And now, as an adult, he was repeating the same patterns. 

Probably the only major difference between this time and when Harry was back at school was that Harry couldn’t simply follow the other man around. He was a recluse and the only chance Harry had at seeing him would be through his wife--Seamus was still trying to arrange a meeting on his end as well, to no avail. Somehow, Harry felt as soon as he could break through and see the man, he’d get the answers he was searching for.

“Harry…Harry!” Hands were waving frantically in front of him, wavy brown hair bouncing. Harry blinked out of his train of thought, looking at Hermione. She was standing in front of his desk in his office, her face was laced with concern and a deep frown was on her lips.

“Sorry,” he smiled weakly at her. “How long have you been here?” he asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t even recall her coming in.

She sighed loudly, and settled herself in the seat across from him. “Harry…” she started to say in her all-too-familiar mothering tone. She always lectured Ron and Harry throughout the years, but since she became a mother her scolding was now harsher and more serious. “I hadn’t realized you had it this bad,” she said, crossing her arms.

Groaning, Harry covered his face in his hands. He mumbled, “It wouldn’t be so bad if I could talk to the prick. I think avoiding me and going into hiding is making this whole thing worse.”

Tutting to herself, Hermione leaned over the desk and rested a hand on Harry’s arm. “Harry…if this will help you, please tell me what’s going on. So Malfoy has this magical power of some sort? You sure he hasn’t cursed you into obsessing over him all the time?”

“No, he couldn’t have done that,” Harry quickly replied. “The dreams started before I even ran into him. And I just can’t shake the feeling that they have something to do with this too.”

Hermione froze, inhaling loudly. “Dreams? You didn’t say anything about any dreams!” she exclaimed. 

Harry groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Yeah well they are bloody well useless, because I can’t remember a fucking thing in them! And the one time I do remember something, the prat goes and gets us both killed.”

“Hold up, Harry--hold up!” She was waving her hands, signaling for him to slow down. “I would think you of all people could realize the significance of dreams. What with all the dreams you had during the war…”

“These dreams aren’t anything like that,” he reassured her. 

“What makes you so sure if you can’t even remember them?” Hermione prodded, her eyebrows raising.

A blush quickly made its way up Harry’s neck and rested on his face. He knew exactly why these dreams were different. He just really didn’t want to tell Hermione the reason why. It was just…too embarrassing. “I just know they are different, ok?” he answered back, weakly.

“Oh come on, Harry. What aren’t you telling me?” She met his eyes this time, determined. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t even tell me all of what’s going on?”

“Fine, ok!” huffed Harry, crossing his arms over his chest. He took a deep breath and plunged forward, “Sometimes the dreams have a rather awkward effect on me. Y’know…when I wake up…”

Her eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of her hair now. “Go on…”

“God Hermione!” wailed Harry, his whole face red now. He ran a hand through his mess of black hair. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this…but, well, I get turned on, ok? The first time it happened I woke up hard…and then last night…”

“Ok, ok!” Hermione waved her hands at him, frantically. “I get it, you don’t have to say more!” 

He sighed, relieved. With his face still burning in embarrassment he asked, “So what do you think?”

Hermione hummed thoughtfully for a minute, tapping her fingers on the surface of his desk. “You said there was a dream you could remember? What was that dream like?”

Harry told her everything he could remember from the dream. How he was flying on his broom above Hogwarts, saw Ginny and began to fly towards her--but had collided into Malfoy in the air. “Then we were falling to the ground, about to die..and he…” He looked up to meet Hermione’s eyes and noticed she was perched just on the edge of her seat. “He kissed me,” he whispered, afraid they’d be overheard--even though the door to his office was shut and they were completely secluded from the rest of the Auror department. “He kissed me, then we fell…and Hermione, it was awful.” He shuddered, closing his eyes. “I watched his body split into a million pieces--there was so much blood.”

His friend’s face was drained of color as he finished describing the dream. “And you died as well?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I’m not sure…but probably. I heard Ginny screaming and then I woke up.” 

Hermione sighed, running fingers through her hair. “Harry…you have no idea how much symbolism could be taken from that dream. Sure, it doesn’t sound like a premonition since everyone is back at Hogwarts in your dream. But clearly your mind is trying to tell you something.”

“What do you know about symbols in dreams? You hated divination and thought it was a load of crock.” Harry pointed out to her.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Divination IS a load of crock. Psychology isn’t, however. Instead of predicting the future, I like to think dreams are a reflection of our inner selves. For example, I know that falling dreams symbol a loss of control in your life. You feel overwhelmed and unable to keep up with the demands placed upon you. Then there’s what Freudian theory says about falling…”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted. He shook his head quickly, “There is no loss of control in my life. My life has never been better. Ginny and I are doing great, my job is steady. I’m not under any sort of stress or pressure--believe it or not, but the Auror department has been very quiet lately. You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Oh right, didn’t realize you had all this under control. I guess I’ll just go now and let you deal with this Malfoy thing on your own then?” She huffed, standing up from his desk.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fair point.” Harry gestured with his hands, pointing at her seat. “Please sit back down. Sorry I over reacted. I’m just trying to figure this out, and it’s making me go mad.”

Smiling sweetly at him, she continued, “Right well, Freud believed falling dreams indicated that you are about to give in to sexual urges or impulses.”

Harry gawked at her. “He said all that?” 

Hermione had a small smile upon her lips before she nodded at Harry. “Yes, he did. Unfortunately I don’t know much else about what the rest of your dream could mean. I’ll have to go back through my old psychology books.”

Frowning deeply Harry added, “So what you’re saying is my mind thinks I want to have sex with Malfoy.” He groaned, resting his head on his desk, and covered himself with his arms. “This is just great.”

Laughing, his friend shook her head down at Harry. “I’m not saying that all! It doesn’t even have to be about Malfoy. Ginny was in your dream too, y’know.”

Sighing, Harry thought back to that morning. He recalled hearing himself moan out _Draco._ It was his name on Harry’s lips when he woke up. It was him that was haunting Harry as of late. He even tried not thinking about the bastard, and that seemed to make Harry think of him even more. Not a second later and Harry stood up abruptly. He could feel the anger start to come to the surface. Malfoy was behind all of this. He had to be. No way would Harry in his right mind think of him in such a way. It was…disgusting.

“The bastard’s cursed me! I just know he has!” Harry huffed, looking around for his cloak. He found it a second later, and he threw it on quickly. 

Buttoning up his cloak, Hermione asked “Hold up, you said the dreams came before you even saw Malfoy. How can you be so sure he cursed you--oi, wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m just done waiting around! I’m going to find out what he’s done to me, and put an end to this once and for all!” Harry yanked open his desk drawer and pulled out his wand. He stuffed it quickly in his robe pocket, and took a step towards the office door.

“Harry, stop!” Hermione seethed, grabbing the edge of his cloak. “You can’t just barge into Malfoy manor accusing him!”

“Yes I can, I’m the fucking head Auror!” He growled, trying to shrug his friend off.

She held onto him tighter. “No, you idiot! You have no probable cause! And no one is going to issue you a warrant based on your _dreams_ and _feelings._ Harry, calm down!” Hermione demanded, stepping in front of him.

“Well what do we do then? I can’t just let him go for this! The slimy git already wheezled his way into getting a clean record from the war. I’m going to catch him at this…he can’t curse me and get away with it!” Harry lashed out, his blood boiling.

“We have to get more concrete evidence,” she said calmly. “Harry, go to St. Mungo’s. There’s some potions you can take that can indicate if you have been put under any curses. Once they find out what it is, you can call him in for questioning.” 

He sighed, feeling his heart rate decelerate. “Fine, fine,” he conceded. 

“Thanks, Harry,” she patted his arm reassuringly. “False accusations could do you more harm than good--especially in regards to the Malfoy family. They are still very powerful, you know. And his wife, you know people have started following her around and taking her picture for the Prophet? Like she’s some sort of celebrity?” she scoffed. 

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah people think she’s Kate Middleton or something.” 

Hermione chuckled. “Well yeah, so she’s well known. The wizarding world is enthralled with her. If you were to accuse her husband so openly, I’m sure there would be a huge backlash. You need to make sure you have the proper evidence first. Just, trust me with this. Wait it out…we’ll figure out what’s going on.” 

Harry exhaled, sitting back in his seat. “I have a date with her on Sunday, actually. We’re going shopping.”

She shrieked with laughter. “You what?” Hermione gasped, out of breath.

“What’s so funny?” Harry pouted, watching his friend holding her sides as she continued to giggle.

After a minute of her laughter, Hermione managed to gasp out, “God, Harry…you sure you aren’t gay? Going shopping with the duchess?” She snorted uncontrollably.

His face burned, “Oh shut up! I can go shopping--men go shopping all the time!” He said defensively.

“Where are you going? Prada? Louis Vuitton? Getting your nails and hair done while you’re at it?” she teased. Hermione had walked over to the office door now, her hand resting on the doorknob.

“Oh fuck off!” Harry yelled after her. 

Only a friend as close as Hermione could pick up the teasing tone from his voice. She knew he really wasn’t angry with her. She smiled widely at him and opened the door to the office. “See you later, Harry! Give Astoria a hug and kiss from me!” Hermione then laughed, turning around and disappearing down the hall.

Harry flicked his wand at his door and shut it. A moment later, a smile was tugging at his lips.

 

Later that afternoon Harry took an extended lunch and visited St. Mungo’s. They subjected to him at least 5 different potions and half a dozen spells. The mediwitch poked and prodded him to the point that there was a trail of bruises starting to form along his forearm. Then when Harry had just about enough of that, she turned and walked out of the room with her collection of potion bottles. What seemed like forever (but in reality was only about 10 minutes) she came back, holding a scroll of parchment in her hands.

She examined the paper, her eyes darting to and fro. “Well?” Harry asked impatiently. “What’s wrong with me?”

The nurse looked from her paper and then to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I’m sorry. But we couldn’t find anything wrong with you. If you’d like…we could do some further tests.” 

He exhaled sharply, rising to his feet from the examination table. “No more tests,” he declined. “Just figures the prat would find something that would be untraceable,” he mumbled under his breath, reaching for his Auror robes. He swung them on and over his shoulders.

“If you want, we could collect some blood and a hair follicle for lab work. We could inform you if we see anything out of the ordinary. That may take some time though,” she suggested. 

Harry shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry Mrs…” he looked over at her nametag pinned to her chest. “Ms. Patricia. But I’m going to have to say no to that. I know just how dangerous it would be for me to just give you a sample of that. There are still plenty of witches and wizards that would love a piece of my hair or blood. For safety protocols I’m going to have to decline that notion.” 

“Oh yes, of course. How silly of me to even suggest,” she frowns, holding her parchment to her chest now. “Well, you are dismissed, sir. I hope you find what you are looking for soon.”

“Yeah thanks…me too.”

That evening Harry came home from work early and decided to make dinner for a change. He had never gotten the hang of the spells Ginny used so frequently around the kitchen, but Harry could still manage to cook the old fashioned way. He figured with how busy his wife had been with work lately, that she would be thrilled to come home and find dinner on the table.

He had set the table when he heard the pop of apparation outside their home. A second later and she walked into the house, taking her coat off and putting it in the closet by the door. “Mmmm…what smells so good?” she asked, walking into the kitchen. 

Smiling widely, he pulled her chair back for her so she could sit down. “Shrimp fettuccine alfredo. Would you like some wine?”

“That would be nice.” Harry poured her a glass and seated himself across from her at the table. The table at the kitchen was small and more often than not Ginny would use it to go over her notes for the Prophet. They had a larger table in the actual dining room of the house, but neither Ginny nor Harry ever felt like eating there without the kids. It just seemed rather impractical going to all that trouble for just the two of them. “So what’s all this for?” asked Ginny, twirling some pasta around with her spoon and fork. “You rarely ever cook. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Shrugging, Harry took a sip of his own wine. “I’ve just noticed how busy you’ve been lately. I figured you needed a night off from cooking.”

“Well thank you,” she beamed, and Harry could practically see the stress coming off of her. He thought he needed to do things like this for her more often. She already looked so much more at ease, and she had barely eaten anything yet. “This is really good by the way,” she complimented, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Harry gave her a small smile before he started to eat his own dish. The food was really good and Harry felt really proud that he hadn’t overcooked the noodles. “So, Halloween is coming up,” Ginny started. “Have the kids thought about the ball? Do you think Lily will get to go this year?”

He felt his insides squirm, remembering the other details about the Halloween ball he had yet to tell her. However, Ginny hadn’t asked about Albus--just Lily. “I’m honestly not sure. Albus and Scorpius are going to try to find a boy in their year to take her. Haven’t heard if they have found anyone yet though.” 

She had rolled her eyes when Harry had mentioned ‘Scorpius’. Harry tried to ignore it, but it just made him feel more at unease. “She doesn’t need them to hook her up with a Slytherin! Maybe James could talk to one of the boys in Gryffindor…” she suggested.

“There’s nothing wrong with the boys in Slytherin,” Harry argued, feeling his irritation rising. He was long past his discrimination for Slytherin, he just wished his wife and their family felt the same. Even when Albus was sorted into Slytherin, Ginny blamed Scorpius. He could still recall her saying, _“That Malfoy boy lured him on the train, and convinced him. Albus wouldn’t have ever wanted to go into that house if it wasn’t for him.”_

Perhaps there was some truth to that. However, when Harry found out about Albus being sorted into Slytherin he had never felt more proud. At his age, Harry was fed the “Slytherin’s are all evil” lie and he had wanted nothing to do with them. Albus was told some of the same things by the Weasleys--but he didn’t take any of it truly to heart. His son liked to figure things out on his own, instead of being told what he should think of about someone. Even at 11, the boy was wise beyond his years.

“Well, as long as she doesn’t go with Malfoy’s son, I guess it’ll be all right,” she shrugged, taking another sip of her wine.

Harry coughed on the wine that got caught in his throat. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot. He knew he had no choice now. He had to tell her, before she found out on her own. “Well actually, no. I think Scorpius has his eyes on someone else,” he said, purposefully not looking at her.

“Oh well, thank God for that. I mean, could you imagine?” she let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “A Malfoy with a Potter. Now that would be the day…” 

“Ginny…” Nervously, Harry met her eyes. 

She stopped laughing immediately. “What is it?”

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not Lily.” He gulped loudly, mustering up the courage. A moment later he added, “I think he’s going to take Al.”

Ginny blinked for a minute. Then when it finally registered, her eyes widened. “To hell he is!” she practically shouted, slamming her glass down upon the table.

Harry sighed again, much louder. “Ginny…”

“No, Harry. That is wrong on so many levels. First off, they are both boys. Boys! Second, it’s Malfoy! Just, no. It isn’t happening.” She glared, crossing her arms. Her scarlet hair flared around her, as if a flame was ignited within her.

For some reason, Harry started to feel his own anger rising to the surface. “Since when do you care if Al is with a boy? So it’s ok for your brother to date a man, but not our son? I see how it is,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Charlie is a grown ass man. He can be with whoever the fuck he wants to be with. Albus is our son, and I sure as hell don’t want him with Malfoy! It’s not happening!” She growled at Harry, standing up from the table. 

“You are being ridiculous!” He shouted at her, lifting up from the table as well. He towered over her and continued, “You can’t stop them! They live together--and we have no control of what they do at Hogwarts. You need to just calm down. You are making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be!”

“Ugh, you’re impossible!” She groaned, looking at the ceiling in frustration. “Why aren’t you more upset about this? You hate Malfoy too!”

“Yeah, I may hate Malfoy. But I don’t hate his son. Ginny, you have to trust me on this. Scorpius is different. The boy is very nice, and if he makes Al happy than that’s all that matters to me.” Harry reached over for Ginny, grabbing her arm to make her look at him. Her eyes met his and he pleaded, “Please, Ginny.”

“Fine,” she said sharply. “But if he so much as _looks_ at him the wrong way…”

“I know, I know,” Harry gave his wife a small smile. “Don’t worry. It’s only a dance after all.” They both sat down at the table again, finishing their meals. Ginny poked her shrimp reluctantly. “By the way, do the kids need dress robes? I know James still has his from last year…”

Shrugging, Ginny finished off her wine. “No, we’ll need to get Albus some new robes. Lily has a few gowns she can choose from--I wouldn’t worry about her.”

“Do you know his measurements?” Harry asked, taking his last bite of pasta. 

“Not off the top of my head, no,” she shook her head. “I think there might be a robe upstairs in his room though,” she said nonchalantly. Ginny stood from the table and took their plates to the sink. She poured herself another glass of wine. “Thanks for dinner, Harry. It was…nice,” she smiled weakly at him.

Harry returned the smile, then left the kitchen and went into his son’s room. The bedroom felt stuffy--having not been opened since summer. Besides his bed, the only thing left in the room was a small collection of books on a shelf, his desk, and whatever was lurking in his closet. He opened the closet and to his dismay all he could find was tattered muggle clothes that Al often wore around the house during summer vacation. 

He sighed, sitting at Albus’s desk. Harry was going to have to ask Al for his measurements. He was going to need those numbers for Sunday--which was only two days away. Would Albus be able to give him the measurements on time? Would Al even be able to give him accurate numbers? Would he even know what to measure in the first place? Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. 

He rested his head in his hands, leaning on the desk. This was becoming more and more complicated. Why on earth did he agree to go shopping with Astoria again? He honestly had no idea. Perhaps the only way Harry could get his measurements would be to go to Hogwarts himself.

Pushing himself up from the desk, Harry noticed a piece of parchment peaking through the drawer. Curiously, he pulled open the drawer from the desk and pulled the paper out. Harry scanned the scroll, noticing at once it was Al’s handwriting. It was a letter dated from last summer.

_I can’t stop thinking about you. I guess you just get used to being with someone for so long that when you are apart, it’s the only way to cope. Autumn can’t come soon enough. I long for the day I will see you again. No one understands me the way you do. James and dad won’t stop talking about Quidditch and dragging me to play with them. All I want to do is catch up on my reading--oh, do shut up. I can already hear you taunting me, “What more could you read Al? You’ve read every book on that shelf 5 times over already.”_

_But you know me. You let me read and write to my heart’s content. And you know just the things to say or do to drag me out of that world. Hell, all you have to do is smile at me and I’m completely drawn out. God, your smile. I don’t think I could ever really tell you how much I love your smile. You’d think I’d have gone off the deep end. Perhaps I already have._

_All I can do right now is sit and wait. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, it’s almost like you are still with me. That we are still at Hogwarts--in our room, or hell, on the pitch. You’d be sitting on my bed, looking over my shoulder as I finish up our homework. Or I’d be watching you flying during practice. Have I mentioned how beautiful you look on your broom? Maybe someday I’ll muster up the courage to tell you._

_The only difference of when I dream of these things, we aren’t with anyone else. It’s just you and me, Scorpius. I think it’s always just going to be you and me. Would you like that? Maybe this year I will ask you. Maybe this will finally be the year. I don’t know how much longer I can wait, honestly._

Harry sat heavily on the bed, the letter fluttering out of his hands and landing on the floor. His face flushed, feeling slightly embarrassed that he read such a personal message. He closed his eyes, taking in the new information. His son was in love--hopelessly in love. 

Leaning over, Harry picked up the letter and held it to his chest. He felt his heart thumping beneath his fingertips. God, to be young and in love. Harry couldn’t even remember having the feeling--it was so long ago. After a minute, he stood up and carefully stowed away the letter back in the desk. Harry left it the way he found it, and resisted the urge to lock the drawer. 

That night when Harry dreamt, he was back at Hogwarts. He was at the Yule Ball, with Draco Malfoy on his arm. They led each other to the dance floor for the opening ceremony. Reaching the center of the crowd, Draco turned to face him. His face broke out into a smile that radiated throughout the whole room. Harry took an unconscious step back from the sheer intensity of the other boy’s grin.

Before Harry could react any further, Draco walked up to him quickly and wrapped an arm possessively around his waist. He grabbed for Harry’s hand. As soon as their skin met, the lights around the hall flickered before growing in intensity. The crowd watching them was completely shocked into silence, and Harry could hear every thump of his racing heart. 

The music began and Draco led him gracefully around the room. Harry was surprised that they never faltered or missed a beat. It was as if they had done this countless times before and dancing with each other was second nature to them. They appeared as opposites--Draco dressed in formal white robes, Harry in contrasting black. But despite their differences, they complimented each other in every way possible.

Song after song began to play afterwards, but Harry and Draco continued to dance to their own music. As the night wore on, they leaned closer into each other till they were chest against chest, Harry’s head resting on Draco’s shoulder. Harry was completely relaxed in the other boy’s arms--he had never felt more at ease. At last, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the famous Queen song. I just adore Scorpius and Al as a couple and thought it fit perfectly with the feelings expressed in this chapter. Thanks for taking the time to read/comment/kudo.


	6. Stop and Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets up with Albus and Scorpius at Hogwarts.

Standing in his closet, Harry debated on what to wear. He had decided he was going to have to visit Albus today in order to get the measurements he needed. At least it was Saturday so Harry knew he wouldn’t be interrupting his son’s classes. He would no doubt have had a harder time getting on the grounds if he came during the week. The headmaster disapproved of parents visiting frequently, stating Hogwarts was a boarding school for a reason. 

Picking out some dark slacks with a crimson sweater, Harry dressed. He hoped that when he arrived at the castle that he would be able to find his son easily. He assumed Albus would be reading up on his assignments in the library. The boy was extremely studious and Harry often wondered where he picked up his habits. He chalked it up to all the times Harry and Ginny left Albus with Rose. The two formed a close friendship growing up, and often Harry would find them sitting in a corner quietly reading. He wondered if they were as close at Hogwarts as they were when they were home for the holidays. Harry hoped their differing houses didn’t come in the way of their friendship.

Harry pushed some garments out of the way as he searched further into the closet. His auror robes were always at the front, but Harry had no intention of wearing those to the school. He still felt it only appropriate to wear his own set of black robes to Hogwarts. He didn’t want to show up simply in muggle clothing--he wanted to blend in while he was there, not bring attention to himself. 

He paused in his search, his eyes resting on his formal black dress robes. Instantly, Harry was brought back to the dream he had the previous night. Yes, he had remembered this dream. However, Harry had nothing to worry about with that vision. The event of his dream never happened--couldn’t happen. Harry never took Malfoy to the Yule Ball. The only reason Harry probably even dreamt that was because of the upcoming Halloween ball their sons were inevitably going to attend together. That was the explanation Harry had, and there could be no other reason. 

Behind the dress robe was his standard black robe. He took it off the hanger and swiftly swung it on. Stepping out of the closet he went downstairs to the fireplace. Harry had already planned on how he was going to get into the school. He stirred the flames with his wand and called out for Neville Longbottom’s living quarters. After a minute, Harry could see the living room of his friend materialize within the fire. Harry sat down, leaning his head in the flames.

Harry often corresponded with Neville throughout the school year. The two remained close friends and Neville was able to keep tabs on Harry’s children while they were at Hogwarts. “Hey Neville,” Harry called out, looking around for his friend.

“Oh, hey Harry! Sorry didn’t hear your call,” Neville replied, walking briskly over to the fireplace. “How are you doing?” he asked warmly.

“I’m doing all right, thank you. How about yourself?”

“Same old, same old,” he smiled. “Lily has been doing spectacularly in class. Her puffapod has flourished, and soon she’ll be able to collect the seeds--well before the rest of her class. You should really look into getting a garden for home, Harry. She really has a knack for plant life.” 

Harry beamed at Neville’s praise. “That’s wonderful! I’ll have to see what we can do for her at home. I’m sure she’d love a garden of her own.” Then Harry’s smile faltered, quickly taking the moment to change the subject. “Actually, Neville, I called you for another reason. Not that I don’t mind talking about the kids…”

“Oh?” Neville’s eyebrows rose. “What is it Harry?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could let me through.” Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I know it’s not a quidditch match day, but I need to see Albus. I have something I need to talk to him about.”

Neville relaxed before replying, “Oh well, sure Harry. Here let me open up the connection. Just a minute, ok?” 

His friend backed up and the fire roared in intensity. Harry stood and stepped forward, feeling the familiar pull of Floo travel take him. A second later and he was dusting his robe off in Neville’s living room. “Thanks, Neville.”

The room was quaint with a small loveseat and armchair nestled near the fireplace and a few bookshelves packed with tomes on various plants. Harry could smell coffee brewing from the neighboring room. “Oh, no problem, Harry. I was just going over the 5th year’s papers on the Chinese chomping cabbage. I look forward to reading what Albus is going to write about. He may not be the best herbologist, but he certainly has a way with the written word.” 

Smiling at Neville, Harry asked, “You don’t happen to know where I might find him right now, do you?” 

Neville’s gaze moved from Harry to the window behind him. His rooms looked out to the greenhouses and the quidditch pitch in the distance. “Hmmm, from what I recall, Slytherins have practice this morning. You know they have a game coming up next week. I imagine you’ll find him there.” 

Furrowing his brow, Harry said, “You do realize Albus doesn’t play for Slytherin, right? Only Potter that plays right now is James.” He told Neville this, honestly thinking his friend had gotten Harry’s sons confused for each other. 

Neville laughed. “Harry, I know that!” he exclaimed. “I’m just saying, Slytherins are out there practicing. Albus always goes to watch them practice. You know how it is. Wherever Scorpius Malfoy is you’ll find Albus. Attached at the hip, those two.” Chuckling again, Neville shook his head. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” He met Harry’s eyes with his own, twinkling. 

Harry gave him an easy smile before turning his attention to the window. Sure enough, Harry could see a flurry of green robes flying around in the distance. “Right, well, I better get going then,” he stated, making his way out of the room. “Thanks again for this, Neville.”

“Oh, anytime, Harry,” Neville waved back at him before averting his attention to the stack of scrolls sitting on his desk.

Managing to not run into anyone within the school, Harry made it out onto the grounds only moments later. He tugged his cloak tightly around him as a gust of wind rushed past him. The weather at Hogwarts was already starting to feel brisker than that of London. Shivering, he regretted that he hadn’t brought his gloves nor hat. 

Just as the pitch was coming closer and closer into view, Harry noticed the Slytherin quidditch team making its way back up to the castle. The team was walking in a tight knit group and it took him a moment to realize that Scorpius Malfoy wasn’t with them, nor was his son. “Hey Mr. Potter,” one of the Slytherin beaters waved at him in passing. “They are still on the pitch.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, continuing his trek to the field. Finally, when he reached his destination he looked up and sure enough the young Malfoy was still zooming around the stadium. He did flips and twirls, laughing carelessly as he darted to one end of the field. Harry watched him closely, instantly reminded of Draco. The two looked so alike, it was really like looking right into the past. 

Scorpius continued his descent, his direction set. Harry noticed he was making his way to a quidditch stand a few down. Seated there was Albus, his nose pressed into a book, completely oblivious to his surroundings. The blonde finally reached Al, but to his disappointment the other boy didn’t even look up from his reading.

He started to spin around on his broom again, closer to Albus. The tricks he performed were rather impressive, but nothing seemed to divert Albus’s attention. Scorpius folded his arms across his chest and scowled, and Harry tried not to laugh. Then Harry watched as he took off again, as if he was giving up on trying to get the other boy’s attention.

Not for much longer, Scorpius spun around again, turning his broom. His face was set out in determination. He aimed for the other boy once more. He was now flying upside down, holding on tightly as he flew towards Albus. He managed to slow his broom flawlessly, hovering right above Al. Their hair brushed, and Scorpius titled his broom just a little bit more--allowing for him to lean in and kiss Albus right on the lips. 

Albus jumped up in alarm, causing Scorpius to fall off his broom and land into the stand with him. “Ouch, Al. Watch it!” Scorpius groaned, rubbing his temple where he had fallen. 

The pair stood up in the stand, looking intently at each other. Albus had turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, and the young Malfoy was grinning from ear to ear. “Wh-what did you do that for?!” shouted Al, blushing furiously.

“Do what?” Scorpius asked, not entirely innocently. 

“You know damn well what! Why’d you kiss me?” He huffed, glowering at his friend.

If it was possible, Scorpius smiled wider. “Seemed like the only way to get you out of that book. I mean, really, Al, that report isn’t due for another week.”

Albus rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the book he had dropped. He picked it up and stuffed it inside his bag. “So that’s it, huh? You kissed me to stop me from reading? Gee, thanks,” he growled, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. Irritated, Al turned to make his way to the stairs of the stand. 

“Wait, you idiot!” Scorpius grabbed Al, pulling the boy back to him. “That’s not the only reason I kissed you. Jesus, haven’t you figured it out by now?” Al looked at him curiously, pondering silently. Scorpius sighed before adding, “I kissed you because I wanted to!” He practically shouted the last statement, and it echoed throughout the stadium. Harry’s heart swelled for his son, hearing the confession.

“You…you did?” Al asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Scorpius nodded. A second later and he looked worried. “Listen, I hope this doesn’t make things weird. If you don’t like me like that, it’s fine…you’re my friend--”

“Oh shut up, you prat!” Albus’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, wrapping his arms around the young Malfoy. This time, Al leaned into Scorpius and kissed him. 

Harry watched for a brief second, blushing profusely. He turned away from them, allowing them their privacy. Undeniably, Harry was very pleased for his son. He wanted nothing more for his son to be happy--and if it just so happened to be with a Malfoy, well, then so be it. 

Still, there was something slightly unnerving of the sight that was now burned into his retinas. He couldn’t help but wonder if that would be how he and Malfoy would have looked, if they were younger--and well, in love. He closed his eyes, trying to shake himself of the image. It was no use, though. Slowly, Scorpius had changed slightly in appearance and it was Draco that was in his mind. Draco who was leaning over on his broom and giving his teenage self a quick kiss.

“Oh my God, is that your dad?” Scorpius’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts.

“Dad!” Albus shrieked, completely embarrassed. Harry turned around and saw the pair of them having made their way down the stand. They were now standing a hundred feet in front of him on the pitch. Scorpius had his arm wrapped around Al’s waist, and Al was struggling to free himself. “What are you doing here?” asked Al, then desperately he asked, “How long have you been here?!”

Harry shrugged sheepishly. Albus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, you saw us didn’t you?” The boy flushed furiously, not looking his dad in the face.

Scorpius chuckled nervously, cutting through the tension. “Um…Mr. Potter, you aren’t going to say anything to my dad are you?” 

Shaking his head quickly Harry said, “No, Scorpius. I won’t tell him. But your mother…”

“Oh God, not her! Please, no! I won’t hear the end of that. Next we’ll be picking out engagement rings and discussing what type of champagne will be at the wedding reception!” Scorpius groaned, looking desperately at Harry.

Harry burst out laughing. Albus looked at Scorpius in alarm. “Are you serious?!” he asked the blonde.

“My God, I wish I was joking,” he said solemnly. “She is obsessed, I tell you. Obsessed!” He turned to Harry this time, eyes pleading. “Please tell me you won’t tell her about this. I could maybe handle my father’s disapproval--but her, no.” 

“Well, it’s a little late for that, Scorpius.” Harry tried to suppress his smile. “She knew before anyone else did, I’m afraid. And she’s the reason I’m here, actually.” 

Both Scorpius and Albus’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh God, what does she want? If she’s wanting pictures of the two of us together, she can forget about it! No announcements in the paper--nothing! She’s not ruining this before we even become boyfriends--I won’t let her!” Scorpius shook his head defiantly. 

“Oh do calm down, Scorpius. It’s nothing like that,” Harry reassured him. Al visibly relaxed, but Scorpius stood completely still and on edge. “She just wants to get robes for you guys. For the dance. I came today to get Al’s measurements--that’s it.”

Scorpius gaped at Harry. “I haven’t even asked him yet! This is unbelievable!” 

Albus turned quickly to look at him. “You’re not going to ask me?” he pouted in disappointment. 

Groaning, Scorpius ran a hand through his blonde hair in frustration. “Of course I’m going to ask you, you dolt! I was just planning on doing it a little more romantically than this! Now my mother and your dad’s ruined it! I just can’t believe this,” he huffed.

“Er, I’m sorry,” Harry said awkwardly.

Albus smiled sweetly before saying to Scorpius, “Well, I think it’s just as meaningful that you were thinking about how to ask me.” He leaned over and kissed the boy quickly on the corner of his mouth. “And the answer is yes, by the way. I’d love to go to the dance with you.” 

Harry watched as Scorpius’s face broke out into a genuine grin. He had never seen the younger boy smile quite like that and especially not so close before. All this time Harry could easily see the resemblance between father and son. However, Harry had never seen Draco smile like this before. He frowned, wondering if Malfoy ever smiled like that. Probably not, he thought. The bastard didn’t know how to smile--not unless if it was tied to an insult of some kind. 

“So dad you needed some measurements?” Albus asked curiously. “What sort of measurements? How about you just get a medium sized robe?” 

Laughter filled their ears as Scorpius shook his head. “Al, it’s not that simple. You can’t just go get a size medium. There is no such thing.”

“I’m pretty sure my school robes are a medium,” he began to argue. 

“School robes are different,” replied the younger Malfoy knowingly. “To find a proper dress robe, it needs to be custom fitted to your body. Trust me on this.” Harry could hear Astoria in his voice, and snorted in amusement. 

“Good grief. I could care less about that. Dad, just get whatever you want,” he waved at Harry, as if that was enough to drop the issue.

“Oh no you won’t!” Scorpius protested. “You’re my date and you are going to look impeccable. I won’t stand for anything less--especially if Mr. Potter came all this way to get your size.” He dug into his pocket, whipping out his wand. “Now hold still, this’ll only take a second.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Albus asked, backing away from him in alarm.

“Do calm down. It’s just a simple spell I’ve been doing since I was in diapers.” He pointed his wand at Al and muttered clearly, “ _Vestimento mensus._ ” A white ray of light was produced from the tip of the wand and came out in a stream. It encircled Albus, stretching around him from his head to his toes, around the broader point of his chest and shoulders, to the small of his waist. The beam stretched quickly along his inseam and then jumped to wrap around his neck.

“Are you ok, son?” Harry asked, worried. He had heard about measuring spells, but this was the first time he had witnessed one performed. 

“Uhhh…I think so,” he replied, gulping nervously as the light moved from his neck and traveled the length of his right arm. “It sort of tickles…”

“It won’t last much longer,” Scorpius reassured him. Then in the blink of an eye, the light flew off of Albus. The ray changed its shape to that of a single piece of parchment. It landed on the grass in front of Harry. 

Harry bent down to retrieve the paper. He noticed several numbers appeared on the surface, each set in both metric and imperial standards of measurements. “This is rather impressive,” he said, examining the list. 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Scorpius scoffed. “But it’s something to get you started. I’m sure there will need to be adjustments to the robe--even with exact measurements, they never seem to get it right.” The blonde turned to Al, looking at him closely for a minute. The next moment he pulled off his green quidditch robe and draped it over his friend. He sighed wistfully, “God, you look so good in green.”

Red faced and thoroughly embarrassed, Al pushed Scorpius back. “Scorpius, stop it!”

Ignoring Al, the young Malfoy turned to Harry. “You know you have to get him something in green. Any other color just won’t look nearly as good.” Then he smirked, turning back to his friend. “God and to think your family wanted you to be a Gryffindor. Ugh, no. You were made to be a Slytherin--green is the only color we should even consider.” 

“Oh please,” Albus chuckled. “Just because I look good in green isn’t a good enough reason to be put in this house. You know, the hat really wanted to put me in Ravenclaw. I asked it not to--but really, I could have been put there.”

Harry was suddenly reminded of his sorting hat experience. He had never heard this story from his son and was truly surprised. I guess the Malfoy did have an influence on his son’s decision for which house he was sorted into.

“You asked the hat to sort you somewhere else? I didn’t know you could do that!” Scorpius asked, astonished. “You do realize that simple action is more than enough reason for you to be sorted into Slytherin, right? Only a Slytherin would come up with something like that--deceiving the hat into placing you wherever you want to. Ha, Albus, that’s hilarious.”

Albus smiled uneasily as Scorpius’s laughter rose between them. He looked up at his father before saying, “Well, really. It was my dad’s idea first. He said it worked for him--figured I might as well give it a try. The hat wanted to sort him into Slytherin and he convinced it not to.”

Grey eyes turned to Harry and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, now why would anyone want to do that? Slytherin is the best house to be in,” he snorted, sounding very Malfoy-like. Harry felt a smile start to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Uncle Ron said your dad was a right prick. If it wasn’t for him, my dad probably would have gone to Slytherin without much fuss,” Albus chortled. 

“Ah well, can’t blame you for that, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius snickered. “Even after all these years my dad can still be a bit of an ass. Don’t take it to heart. I honestly think he acts like more of a bastard to the people he really cares about. It always explains why he acts like such a dick to me and mum. We know deep down, he loves us really.”

Harry listened to Scorpius, unconsciously aware that his heart began to slowly speed up. He really had no idea what Draco Malfoy thought of him. He really didn’t know much at all concerning the other man, and any information was welcome. He leant closer to the boys, suddenly very interested with where this conversation was going. 

“If that’s the case, he must _really_ love my dad then,” Albus laughed hard. Harry coughed, feeling suddenly light headed. He tried to keep thoughts frantically out of his mind, but memories of his dreams started pooling into his head. Draco and him dancing at the ball…Draco kissing him before they fell. 

“Oh jeez, not like that,” Scorpius quickly butted in. “No, I meant he probably doesn’t hate him like we all think he does. I’m sure he wants to be friends--he just doesn’t know how to. I could talk to him for you, if you’d like, Mr. Potter.” 

What better way to get to the older man than through his son? Harry took the opportunity swiftly. “Yes, I’d like that.” He thought for a minute before adding the explanation, “Especially given the current circumstances. If you two are going to be together, I think it would be easier if we could all just get along.” 

Both boys shared a grin with Harry and Scorpius pulled Al to him shortly after. Albus blushed as his friend returned his hand around his waist. “Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Potter. You are a pretty cool dad.”

Chuckling, Harry shook his head. “Well, thanks, Scorpius. By the way, you can just call me Harry. I feel weird having you call me Mr. Potter all the time.” He watched them closely, and he could feel the happiness radiating off of the pair. He really did think they made a good couple--despite everything. Harry just tried to keep the persistent thought out of his mind of how much they looked like him and Draco.

“So… _Harry,_ ” Scorpius stressed the new name on his tongue. “You going to watch me play next week? We go against Hufflepuff, so we’ll probably clobber them.” Albus rolled his eyes at that last statement, but didn’t back away when Scorpius pulled him closer.

“Er…what day is your match?” Harry asked. He honestly hadn’t planned on going to see every quidditch match this school year. He only figured he’d go when James was playing. If he started going to every match, when would Harry ever have time to finish his work at the Auror department? 

“On Wednesday,” Albus chimed in. “Listen, dad, you don’t have to come. We’ll understand if you are busy. And I’m sure James would be pissed if he saw you cheering for the enemy…”

“Maybe he and all his Gryffindorks are the enemy!” interrupted Scorpius. 

“Oh, please stop,” groaned Harry. “No one is the enemy. I destroyed him twenty years ago. Let’s move on from that all right?” He sighed, running a hand through his black locks. “And I’ll honestly try to come to your game, if I’m not busy with work. Ok?”

“Oh all right,” pouted Scorpius. Then his face changed and he broke out into a knowing grin. “I’m sure my dad will be there…”

Harry met his eyes quickly, the thought clicking. “What time on Wednesday, did you say?”

If it was at all possible, Scorpius grinned wider. “Show starts at one, after lunch.” 

The smile Scorpius offered him bothered Harry. He had seen that grin one too many times from his father. It was a smile that looked sweet on the outside, but from the knowing eye it held ulterior motives. Just what did Malfoy’s son have planned? What was he playing at? “Right,” Harry said, trying to shake off his unnerving smirk. “I’ll try to make it.” 

The blonde nodded up at him, then pulled Albus along with him. They started to make their way up to the castle. “All right. I’ll see you on Wednesday, Harry!” He called after him, chuckling. Albus looked between his father and his friend curiously. His son frowned, and Harry could see the confused look upon his face. 

Scorpius pulled him aside, meeting his lips quickly with Al. His frown disappeared in the kiss and Al’s confusion was washed away. Harry gawked at them for a minute, completely taken aback. He didn’t know the little Malfoy had the nerve to kiss Albus in front of Harry. It was almost as if he did the whole thing on purpose. 

He began to deepen the kiss, darting his tongue into his son’s mouth. Harry had to turn away from them, feeling the heat rush up his neck. He heard Al shove Scorpius off a second later. “God, Scorp! My fucking dad is right there!” he hissed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Scorpius giggled. “You just look so cute when you are frowning like that. I had to do something…” He looked up and met Harry’s eyes across the lawn. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll take good care of him. Promise.” Then he gave Harry a quick wink--it was so quick Harry almost missed it.

Harry flushed darker, his whole body on edge. He was about to call them back, but his voice caught in his throat. Watching helplessly, he saw the boys hand-in-hand run up to the castle. He could hear their laughter ringing in his ears, even after they had already made it inside Hogwarts. 

Shaking his head furiously, he tried to clear his head. His mind traitorously stayed put, however. It wasn’t Scorpius winking at him though--it was Draco. Draco winking, leaning in and whispering, “I’ll take good care of you Harry.” Then he was on his broom, flying and looking exactly like Scorpius had looked just moments before. Wind whipping through white blonde hair, green robes billowing. “Scared, Potter?” he could still hear him asking, almost as if Malfoy really was there. Almost as if they really were back at Hogwarts together. “What are you so scared of?” 

_You._ Harry thought. _I’m scared of what you are capable of…and well, the power you have over me._

The wind picked up, Harry’s robe flapping furiously around him and hanging on by a single button. Jolted, Harry opened his eyes. He looked around the grounds and noticed other students coming out of the castle. Suddenly, he felt really out of place. He made his way to the gates of Hogwarts before anyone else could notice him, disappearing from sight. 

He stood at the apparation point, but for some unknown reason he hesitated. He turned in the direction of Hogsmeade--the cozy cottages just barely in his field of vision, Without a second thought, he walked away from the point. He kept going, his feet knowing exactly where to take him. Then, he was standing in front of the Hog’s Head. Looking into the front windows, Harry couldn’t mistake him even if he tried.

Draco Malfoy sat at the bar, swirling his brandy around. A moment later and he laughed at something Seamus was telling him from across the table. Harry felt his insides squirm, and with palms sweating profusely he couldn’t wait a moment more. He pushed open the door and went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named from the Onerepublic song. Also, I'm really anxious to post the next chapter. That chapter is the whole reason I began to write this story. Stay tuned!


	7. Blue Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confronts Malfoy. Hermione offers up some advice.

He knew it was a stupid idea the moment he shut the door behind him. However, Harry wasn’t the type to think things through and would rather just plunge straight into the moment. He could always think about the consequences later. Blame it on his foolish Gryffindor qualities, if you will. You had to have possessed some sort of bravery, walking willingly into the dragon pit. Harry would tame this dragon though, and finally get what he came here for. 

The dragon was sitting there at the bar, wearing snug dark blue jeans and a simple white shirt. Harry was taken aback, having never seen the man wear anything so casual. Draco Malfoy wore suits and robes--not blue jeans. The blonde stood up the moment he noticed Harry, and Harry’s eyes traveled from his head down to his feet. The jeans clung to the man’s legs and his white shirt was practically like a second skin. If Harry looked any closer he could notice the shape of his muscles underneath.

“What are you doing here?” barked Malfoy. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the bar. Seamus had to crane his neck around Draco in order to see Harry. Behind the bar Seamus’s mouth fell into a small ‘o’ when he realized it was Harry he was talking to. 

Raising his sight up to Malfoy’s face, green eyes met grey. Harry could feel his eyes burning from the glare Malfoy shot him from across the room. Gulping nervously, he stupidly made his way closer into the restaurant. Harry was silently thankful that it was still late morning and that the Hog’s Head was practically vacant. “I came to talk to you,” Harry said firmly, finally settling right in front of the other man. They stood a few paces apart--any closer and Harry was afraid Malfoy would go off even more on him. 

“I don’t want to talk to you Potter,” growled Malfoy. Harry watched as his chest heaved, Malfoy’s breath coming out ragged and uneasy. 

Certainly not a quitter, Harry stood his ground. “We are going to talk about this.” He changed his stance unconsciously, spreading his legs slightly so that he could block more of the door. Harry didn’t think Malfoy would run, but an Auror like him was always prepared. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on!” He demanded, returning Malfoy’s glare with one of his own. 

Huffing, Draco’s face started to color from the anger that was building up. The lights overhead flickered. “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you? You have to keep poking at it till you get what you want! If you’d just go away, we could go back to the way things were. We’d have nothing to worry about!” Harry noticed Malfoy’s hands clenching tightly at his sides, knuckles white. 

Before Harry could respond, he heard a quick “I’m just going to go into the kitchen” from Seamus. Even if Harry wanted to, he couldn’t focus on anything but the man in front of him. He had been on the brutal end of Malfoy’s anger more than enough times--but this felt more intense than anything he could ever remember. 

“This isn’t about me! This is about you! You’ve fucking cursed me! These dreams--I know this is all your doing! Now, take it off of me!” Harry accused him, his heart racing. There could be no other explanation for the way Harry’s mind was drifting more and more towards the Malfoy in front of him. He was ready to be done with it, once and for all. 

Malfoy looked as if he had been punched in the gut. His eyes had never been more wide, and the color started to drain from his face. “Dreams?” He muttered, looking cautiously at Harry. “You dream about me?” The question was filled with worry--and some new emotion Harry couldn’t quite place. “What sort of dreams?” He asked shortly after, his anger slowly subsiding. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said quickly, defensively. No way was he going to go into details about the dreams he could remember. That was too embarrassing…and well, intimate. “All I know is that you are in them, and I’m tired of having them! So let’s get this over with. Whatever weird perverted thing you had planned, it’s not working. Go curse some guy that’s not in a happy marriage, all right?” 

“God, you are such a fucking asshole!” He bit back, turning away from Harry. Malfoy sat back down at the bar and proceeded to finish off his drink quickly, slamming it on the counter. Harry’s mind veered off course for a second, wondering how anyone could possibly sit in jeans that were that tight. He shook his head, groaning. 

“So you’ll take the spell off?” asked Harry, feeling the change of the atmosphere around them. He knew Malfoy wasn’t nearly as mad as when he first walked into the place.

“I can’t,” sighed Malfoy, leaning over the counter. Harry’s eyes quickly moved away from Malfoy’s jean-clad ass to the various bottles behind the bar. The blonde pulled out a Firewhiskey bottle from underneath, and sat back down and proceeded to fill his empty cup. Pouring himself a drink seemed like something he did frequently here. “I can’t take it off, because it’s not a curse. Those dreams you are having are all your own, Potter.” 

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” argued Harry. He wasn’t going to let Malfoy get off this easy. “Why in the world would I dream of you kissing me if you are the gay one here?” The other man dropped his glass out of his hand, looking at Harry in alarm. He ignored him and added, “Really, Malfoy if that’s the only way you can get a man to like you--I feel _sorry_ for you.” 

The bar stool skidded across the floor as Malfoy leaped to his feet. A strand of platinum hair slipped to the front of his face and he was seething in anger again. “And I feel sorry for your wife!” He growled back. “Using some weird curse as an excuse to deny your true feelings! I may be gay, Potter--but I’m not in denial about it! You had to go and have three kids, just to convince yourself huh? Scared of everyone knowing your little secret? God, you’re pathetic.”

Before Harry could retort, the fireplace roared to life and a man stepped out. Harry huffed, really irritated that they were now interrupted. He honestly didn’t want any strangers overhearing what they were talking about. Not that he _was_ gay, mind you--he just didn’t want the whole Wizarding World to think he was. Then there was the way Malfoy was talking about his wife and kids--as if what he had was all a big lie. Harry was seeing red, and if that guy hadn’t come in right then, Harry was sure he was going to kill the bastard. 

“Oh, Draco who is this?” cooed the man, coming over to them. He wore form fitting gray slacks paired with a rich blue cardigan. His dark brown hair fell around his angular face, and blue eyes searched Harry up and down. “Oh my, god. Is that who I think it is?” he asked excitedly, clearly oblivious to the tension that was still heavy throughout the room. 

Sighing, Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned back to sit at the bar. “Yeah, it’s bloody Potter. You want a drink?” he asked the man as he reached under the bar again. 

“Oh, Drake--it’s not even noon yet!” the man tutted, taking a seat next to him. He still sat facing Harry, rather than the bar. His eyes roamed unabashedly and Harry felt really uncomfortable with his stare. “I’m Jake, by the way,” he offered, giving Harry a sweet smile. Harry noticed his teeth were flawless.

“Er, Harry.” He replied awkwardly.

“Oh, was I interrupting something? You two seemed like you were really into it before I walked in. Please, by all means, continue!” Jake clapped his hands together excitedly. Draco snorted behind his glass before he took a large gulp.

With Jake now in the room, Seamus felt it was safe to come back out from the kitchen. He looked from Harry to Draco. “You two done fighting now?” he asked hopefully. 

“For now,” Malfoy said, not bothering to look back at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes looking at the back of his head. He felt irritated that he couldn’t get more information out of Malfoy. But at least he knew there were going to be other opportunities to figure out what was going on between them. Then there was the whole magical spark Harry felt the last time they were together--could that be part of the curse too? He had no idea. If Malfoy wouldn’t admit to the curse, perhaps Harry would need to slip him some Veritaserum. 

“He’s rather fit, isn’t he?” Harry heard Jake whisper to Draco. He felt his stomach lurch, not really liking the way Jake was watching him carefully. 

“You think every guy within a mile radius is fit,” Draco replied back, not missing a beat. He gingerly finished his drink and handed Seamus the bottle and his glass. “Thanks again, Seamus. We might as well get going.” Malfoy stood up from the bar, and pulled his black jacket on. The jacket was purely Muggle as well. He wondered strangely where the two of them could be going dressed the way they were. No one would have even thought they were wizards unless you knew. 

“Damn, Draco. Those jeans,” swooned Jake, his eyes finally moving over to his friend and away from Harry. He watched uneasily as Jake leaned over and raked his hands up Draco’s thighs. Flushing slightly, Harry turned away just as Draco swatted his hands off. 

“Let’s go,” Malfoy said. He reached inside his jacket pocket and placed a pile of galleons on the bar. Jake pouted, looking from Malfoy to Seamus, then resting his eyes on Harry again.

“Oh, Harry…do you want to come with us?” asked Jake eagerly. “There’s this great spa in Hampstead with the most beautiful men you have ever seen! God, and the masseur! His hands are so strong,” he sighed wistfully. “He could rub me out any time.” 

Three things happened at once. Seamus’s laughter filled the room from behind the bar, Draco groaned, and Harry gawked. Then Malfoy grabbed his friend by the wrist and started to pull him to the fireplace. “Jake, you idiot. Potter’s not coming with us. He’s married.” 

“Well, it certainly hasn’t stopped you!” Jake laughed, stepping into the floo. Malfoy rolled his eyes at his friend again, stepping in after him. The green flames engulfed them a moment later, and the last thing Harry saw was Jake waving back at him playfully. 

Harry sighed, sitting at the bar. Without another word, Seamus poured him a drink. He grinned, looking over at Harry. Harry shook his head, taking the drink. Suppressing his laughter at the ridiculous Jake, he sipped his glass. “He always like that?” asked Harry after a while.

“Yep,” snorted Seamus in amusement. 

“God, how can Malfoy stand him?” asked Harry, chuckling. Deciding he rather liked the taste of his drink--it wasn’t Firewhiskey but rather something sweet and delicious--he took a larger gulp. 

Seamus watched him nurse his drink, his grin growing. “Oh well, he does give great head, so there’s that.” 

The drink shot out of Harry’s mouth in an instant, as he sputtered uncontrollably. His friend cackled hysterically, holding his ribs. When Harry finally regained his composure he asked him, “My God, Seamus. I really didn’t want to know all that. You and Jake? I didn’t even know you liked guys.”

Seamus shrugged, pouring some peanuts into a bowl and putting it on the counter. “I don’t really think of it like that. If I find someone attractive, then I find them attractive. I don’t let their gender get in the way. I just like falling for the person, you know? I think people just made it more complicated, labeling it as you’re either gay or straight. If I like you, I like you. Who gives a fuck what’s between your legs?” 

Harry’s eyes widened, listening to his confession. Perhaps he had a point and sexuality wasn’t so set in stone. Harry could surely admit at times that he had thought some men were certainly good looking. Even Ginny had made comments before of how pretty she thought some of the girls were that she used to play quidditch with. Had Harry ever been attracted to those men before? Well…no. But it wasn’t like he gave it much thought or even a chance.

“Anyway, Jake and I happened a million years ago. We’re just friends now. He’s a bit eccentric but after a while you get used to it. I wouldn’t worry about him--he’s relatively harmless,” Seamus reassured him. 

He wasn’t sure what made him ask his next question, other than his general curiosity. “So is Malfoy with Jake, then?” 

Scrunching his face in disgust Seamus replied, “Haha, no. They are friends and that’s all they’ll ever be. Jake is so not his type. Draco likes the brooding assholes that are no good for him. The bigger the jerk, the better. Then when he has them wrapped around his little fingers, he kicks them to the curb like he always does. He’s ruthless. I’d watch it, if I were you.” 

“Oh for Pete’s sake. Can we leave me out of this?” Harry groaned, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. “I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me. I just want him to get rid of this curse he put on me, so I can go back to my normal married life. I’m not gay, never have been till this spell. And I’m getting pretty fed up of thinking about him all the time.” 

Seamus frowned, looking at Harry seriously for a second. “Mate, I don’t think there’s a spell that makes you gay. And I’m telling you now--I know Draco, and I can tell you he’d never put a curse on you like that. Yes, maybe at school he would have loved the opportunity. But he’s changed--he’s not the annoying git we all used to hate. And well, he hasn’t even mentioned your name in years. Perhaps you could consider what he said. Maybe it’s all cause of something happening on your end.” 

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his mess of hair. “You heard us then? Arguing? You’re really going to take his side on all this? You know who you’re talking about, right? It’s Malfoy, I mean, come on.” Irritated, he set his glass on the bar and stood up.

“Listen, Harry. We grew up together as kids and you’ll always be a friend. But Draco has been my close friend for about fifteen years now. I know he hasn’t cursed you. He’s not the prick he was in school. He might be an ass to the boys he brings to his bed--but that’s it. I’ve never had a more loyal friend, and he’d just never do that. It makes no sense. I’m sorry, mate.” He frowned sincerely at Harry as he watched him start to make his way to the fireplace. 

“Right well…thanks, man.” Harry threw the floo powder hard in the grate, without a second glance over at Seamus. Once he was home, he tried to think of something--anything---else. It was a struggle he fought with the rest of the day. When night fell, Harry already had it planned how he was going to cope tonight. He was going to make love to his wife, and he was not going to dream of Malfoy. He’d even take a dreamless sleep potion if need be. 

The first part of his plan didn’t go as well as he hoped though. Ginny was so exhausted from work, Harry found her fast asleep on the couch of her study. She had three magazines plastered to her body, and Harry placed them carefully on her desk. He tried to wake her up with gentle kisses along her forehead, neck, and then lips. She moaned in her sleep, turning away from him a moment later. Harry sighed, giving up. He wasn’t going to wake her just so he could have sex. If he was going to make love to her, he wanted her to equally participate with as much as enthusiasm as him. He reached over and grabbed the blanket draped along the top edge of the couch. Harry tucked it around her before he got up and went to their bedroom. 

The sleeping drought tasted bitter in his mouth, but Harry swallowed it all eagerly. He was looking forward to a night free of the plague of Malfoy-dreams. Perhaps with a good night’s sleep, he might be able to come up with a solution to this whole problem. Harry only hoped the solution would come sooner rather than later. 

As sleep took Harry, however, he felt his surroundings slowly change. Despite the potion in Harry’s veins, he was no longer lying in bed peacefully. People were shouting. If Harry could concentrate a little harder, he could discern what they were saying. He couldn’t see a thing, his eyes felt open--but there was nothing to see. He couldn’t move. His hands and legs were bound. His mouth was gagged. He was trapped. Harry’s heart was racing as he slowly started to panic. What the hell was happening to him? Where was he?

“What have you done!? Let him go this instant!” yelled someone. Their voice was strangely familiar, Harry was just having a hard time registering who it was. 

“This is for your own good,” growled another person--a man. His voice was low and when Harry heard him speak his insides started to squirm. “If you won’t obey and follow through with your destiny, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands!” 

“Are you mad, old man? The Dark Lord couldn’t kill him--you honestly think you can?” The other person huffed, and Harry realized who was speaking. There was no mistaking that voice from anyone else.

Laughter, bitter cold laughter, filled Harry’s ears. A second later and the older man said, “Now, Draco, you honestly think I’d _kill_ him? I’m not that stupid. The ministry is watching me like a hawk--I’d never get away with it. No, no. I have something better in mind.” 

The silence was deafening. Then Draco gasped sharply. “Where did you get that? Who the fuck gave you a wand? _Expelliar--_ ”

_“Crucio!”_

Harry heard his screams and he groaned, jerking his body and trying desperately to break free from his bonds. It was no use. His blood was pumping wildly, sweat drenching him as he continued to listen to the boy’s torture. 

“Draco, Draco. My dear boy, you don’t need to make this so difficult.” Harry’s heart sunk immediately, finally realizing who the other person was. Lucius Malfoy. He heard his footsteps walking closer to Harry, and Harry held his breath. 

“Now, you are going to marry and produce an heir. You are going to forget about this--he’s going to forget about this. It’s simple, really! It’ll be like it never happened.”

Then Harry felt something prodded into his temple. His stomach lurched as he imagined it was the tip of Lucius’s wand pressed into his skin. He heard Draco scream desperately, “HARRY!”

_“Obliviate!”_

Harry jerked awake, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. He opened his eyes frantically and was relieved to see his bedroom. Panting, he stumbled out of the bed and ran into his desk. He fumbled around for a piece of parchment. Grabbing a quill he quickly jotted down what he could remember of the dream. The details were quickly disappearing into nothingness. He heard something…someone cast a spell.

_Spell._ Harry wrote on the parchment. Then he tensed, trying to focus as hard as possible. What sort of spell was it? If only Harry could remember.

Remember. 

That was _IT!_

He couldn’t remember. Only one spell Harry knew did that.

_Obliviate._ He wrote, and somehow he knew that must have been it. He stared at the words on the paper, the room around him felt like it was spinning. The new information was falling into place, making Harry feel very sick.

Just what did dream-Malfoy want him to forget? It just didn’t make sense. What was the bastard hiding from him? Why couldn’t he remember the whole dream? If only he could figure out what had happened. Harry turned around and noticed the empty potion bottle beside the bed. He frowned, pondering why it hadn’t worked. Dreamless sleep potion--and yet, he dreamt anyway. Was the potion brewed incorrectly?

He didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next. All he knew was that he needed to get answers, and there was only one person he could trust to figure this out. He bolted from his room, and made his way to the fireplace. “Hermione Granger-Weasely!” he shouted, sticking his head in the green flames. 

Harry watched her stumble down the stairs, her hair wild and pajamas in disarray. She got one good look at Harry and without a second word she opened up the connection. “Get in here,” she said firmly. And Harry did, without so much as a second thought.

They settled in the living room, Hermione taking the overstuffed armchair. Harry had sat down on the couch, but then thought better of it. He couldn’t contain himself and started to pace nervously around the room. He felt like he was on the verge of figuring something out, and if he sat down and began to relax he’d might feel it slip out of his mind entirely.

“Harry--what is it?” asked Hermione, looking at him as if she barely recognized him. Perhaps he did look a little unusual barging into her house in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but his flannel bottoms they gave him two Christmases ago. 

“I had another dream. It doesn’t make any sense. I took a dreamless potion before bed--I dreamt anyway. This thing won’t go away--I can’t get it out of my mind! Hermione, I’m just getting so tired of this.” He inhaled deeply before letting out a deep sigh. “Then Malfoy has the nerve to think it’s all in my head and that I should just forget about it. He knows something, Hermione. I just know he does.”

She frowned deeply, nibbling her lip between her teeth. Thinking it through she asked, “So, did you remember this dream? I’ve read through some of my psychology books--I could perhaps give you some insight from that end.”

Shaking his head quickly, he replied, “No. I couldn’t remember it. But there’s this. I managed to write something down before all the details disappeared. Here.” He handed her the parchment he had scribbled on. 

“Well Harry, that’s a brilliant idea. I should have suggested a dream journal sooner!” Then her eyes raked over the parchment and she dropped it hastily in her lap. She stood up from her chair, her eyes widened in alarm. “Harry! Do you know what this means?”

“No…I was hoping you’d tell me,” he looked at her eagerly. “So I had a memory charm put on me in a dream. I’m sure Freud doesn’t have anything to say about that, does he?”

She ignored his last question and asked one of her own. “You said you took a dreamless sleep potion? You’re positive that’s what you took?”

Shrugging, “I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. You know I’m pants at potion making--Ginny and I always get our stuff premade from Diagon Alley. But obviously the bloody thing didn’t work. Whatever spell he’s placed on me can get through, so that’s just great.” 

Hermione’s mouth had fallen open as Harry spoke with her. He didn’t like the look she was giving him, and his insides started to twist uncomfortably. “Harry…” she began to speak slowly, her voice full of concern. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Harry…” she said again, in that same awful voice.

“Oh my God, what is it?” barked Harry, frustration rising.

She walked over to him, her eyes looking at him intently. Hermione was only a foot away when she offered, “Harry…what if it wasn’t a dream?” 

Thoroughly confused, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean it wasn’t a dream? Um, I was asleep--pretty sure I was dreaming.” 

Sighing, Hermione told him, “Ok, close your eyes.” Harry did, wondering what she was getting at. Once his eyes were closed, Harry could hear her say, “All right. Now can you remember the first time we met? On the train?”

“Hermione…what does this have to do--”

“Oh please, just do it, will you?” she cut in. Then Harry let the memory from all those years ago come to the front of his mind. He could see her childhood self, bushy hair, storming into their train compartment. She was looking for Neville’s toad. 

“All right, now open your eyes.” Harry did, looking at her. Her eyes searched his, the concern still etched all over her features. “So, what did you see?” she asked a moment later.

“You and your crazy hair, looking around for a toad. God, you were so bossy.” 

She smiled, nodding. Then her face became serious. “Ok, now what I’m going to say you probably won’t like to hear. But please, keep an open mind about it. All right?” Harry returned her nod eagerly, his heart beginning to race. She sighed, running a hand through her bed hair. “What if you weren’t really dreaming? Yes, you dream when you sleep. But your mind does other things during sleep too--it processes and stores information. Memories that you have long since forgotten could be brought to the surface, simply from the waves you experience dipping deeper into your unconscious.”

“Hermione…”

She held up a hand quickly, and Harry closed his mouth. She continued her explanation. “ _Obliviate_ is a charm used to block out memories from a person’s awareness. However, studies have suggested that the memories don’t simply disappear from the victim’s mind. They are locked up tight--deep into the person’s unconscious. Some people under extreme torture have been able to unlock bits and pieces into their awareness--but ultimately, the spell is irreversible.”

“Tonight, you took a potion that blocks out dreams. But Harry, what if it wasn’t a dream at all? What if it was a _memory_?” 

Harry suddenly felt ill. He couldn’t stand anymore, and flopped down on the couch. “So you actually think Malfoy erased my memory?” 

Hermione nodded, sitting next to him. “It is the only thing that makes sense to me. You have dreams you remember--and ones you don’t. The ones you do remember clearly are just dreams. The ones you can’t remember have to be the memories blocked out from the charm. As soon as you wake up you forget, because the spell blocks the connection of your awareness to those particular memories.”

Harry sat quietly for a minute, pondering. Then his color drained from his face as he recalled just what this could mean. “Oh God, Hermione,” he groaned, covering his face in his hands. 

“What is it?” she asked softly, resting her hand soothingly on his arm.

“The dreams where I woke up…y’know. Aroused. Those were the dreams I couldn’t remember. You don’t think Malfoy and I could have…” He felt nauseated, and he certainly couldn’t finish that train of thought. “I’d never…I’ve always been with Ginny. It’s always been her.” 

She frowned, rubbing his back now to calm him down. “Harry…we can’t say one way or the other. You have to find out more about these dreams. The more you can record, the more we can unlock what he’s taken from you. Keep a journal by your bed, write everything down you possibly can before you become fully aware.” 

Harry nodded, his mind racing. He gave her a longer hug than normal, then made his way home shortly after. When he climbed back into bed later that night, he couldn’t sleep at all. All he could see was Malfoy at the bar, looking at him intently. _You dream about me?_ His voice rang through his head. Then there was those jeans… as if they were sculpted to perfection along Malfoy’s body. He could see him now, standing slightly from his bar stool to reach under the bar--giving Harry the best view of his supple, round…

Groaning, Harry threw the pillow on top of his head and hit himself several times. 

Damn those jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started this all for me. I've been pretty obsessed with Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey and this song got me through most of this story. There is also an amazing Drarry video I pulled inspiration from as well. You can find it [here](https://youtu.be/2mKJEN27uck?list=LLfep0StTEqrZE1d0UX3DpiQ)


	8. Labels or Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astoria and Harry go shopping.

At last morning arrived, the sun seeping into the bedroom. Most mornings Harry would sleep in, dreading the inevitable of having to get up. Today however he wanted nothing more than to go downstairs and drink a whole pot of coffee. It seemed like a fantastic idea to jolt his senses and keep the lack of sleep at bay. Then perhaps he’d have the energy to get this dreaded shopping trip out of his way.

It’s not like he didn’t like Astoria Malfoy. She was a rather pretty woman, and her heart seemed to be in the right place where it concerned their sons. It just had to have gotten more complicated now, what with the new information he had on her husband. Did she know Draco was gay? That he was seeing other people? Harry didn’t feel it was his place to tell her--but he certainly didn’t like the idea of neglecting to tell her the truth either.

“Mmmm…what’s for breakfast?” Ginny asked, walking up behind Harry and wrapping her arms around his waist. He smiled contently, turning so she could look over him and see what he was making in the frying pan. “Oh, Harry…my favorite. You didn’t have to.” 

Leaning over, he quickly captured her lips with his. He was happy and actually a little bit relieved to feel the familiar butterflies flutter around in his stomach. She smiled against his lips. Harry knew he still loved her, still had these feelings after all these years. Whatever he was feeling for Malfoy was anything but this--it was foreign and unwelcome, brought on by an obsession he really needed to get over. 

“So what are your plans for today?” she asked him, moving away and making herself a cup of coffee.

Figuring no time was better than the present, he plunged ahead, “Going shopping.”

Her fine eyebrows disappeared behind her fringe of brilliant red. “Shopping?” A second later and she shook her head, bringing the pot of coffee over and filling Harry’s empty cup by the stove. “Well Harry, I already went grocery shopping two days ago. We should be good for awhile…” 

Snorting, Harry flipped the omelette at the precise moment. It was the perfect consistency--neither over nor undercooked. “Well, actually I’m not going grocery shopping. I figured I’d go buy Albus his robes for the dance.” 

She was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her cup and opening up the newspaper. “Still think he’s bringing that Malfoy--or has our son finally came to his senses?” Ginny asked, her eyes not even looking up from the quidditch section.

Harry sighed, his mind instantly barraged with images of Scorpius pulling his son into a very heated kiss. The same kiss he dared to perform right in front of Harry, right before the two vanished off into the castle. Merlin knew what they did once they got into Hogwarts… 

Harry could feel his face start to heat up, and his chest tightened. Then he blinked. Looking down he quickly pulled the eggs off before he burnt them. As he handed her a plate he said, “Afraid not, Gin. They are going together,” he confirmed. 

“Hmmm.” She poked at her eggs thoughtfully for a moment, giving them a curious gaze. Harry knew she could tell he had overcooked the one side. However, she politely didn’t comment on this and eventually picked up her fork and proceeded to eat. “So, going to Madam Malkins? Do you want me to go with you? I could help you pick out something.” 

What was it with women on insisting he needed help with clothes shopping? Did he honestly look that helpless? Granted, he never really paid any attention to the latest fashion, but he wasn’t clueless. He frowned, looking down at his current attire. An oversized shirt and loose trousers that he’d owned for at least 10 years now--did he even have anything that was actually his size? When was the last time he bought something for himself? Harry couldn’t even remember… 

“Harry?” 

He jumped in his seat. “Oh--what? I’m sorry.” 

A corner of her mouth dipped. “What’s gotten into you lately? You seem…sort of off. Like you’re not entirely here.” Her frown deepened and she reached across the table for his hand. Entwining their fingers she said calmly, “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Are you having those dreams again?” 

His stomach lurched instantly. Oh yes, he was having dreams again. His mind began flooded with Malfoy…Malfoy in elegant white robes, pulling Harry close for a dance. Malfoy kissing him in the air, tears trailing his cheeks. Malfoy and fucking flawless hair, intense grey eyes. Eyes that burned him from across the room and left Harry feeling like a puddle of an intangible mess. Then those jeans…Merlin those jeans. Harry felt the heat rising slowly within him, and to his horror his own loose trousers suddenly felt just a little bit tighter. 

“Harry, are you all right?” Ginny’s voice rose. She was by his side now, running a hand over his forehead. Her fingers felt cool to the touch, and he closed his eyes trying to calm himself down. “My gosh, you’re flushed. Are you getting sick? Are they working you too hard at the department?” 

Opening his eyes he looked back at his wife. A sense of guilt washed over him as he took in her concerned gaze. It was one thing that these thoughts haunted him at night--it was completely another for them to affect him throughout the day, with her _right there._ He needed to get this under control, and fast. Maybe he could ask Malfoy to obliviate him again.

“Harry!” Ginny shouted at him, and Harry turned his gaze on her. When had he even looked away from her? Instead of concern, she seemed irritated now. She removed her hands from his head and had her hands on her hips, glowering at him. “That’s it. You tell me right now what’s going on. I’m not stupid--I know when something is up. I’ve never seen you so distracted since the war…”

“All right,” Harry sighed. He hated when she brought up ‘the war.‘ He knew he wasn’t going to get off easily on this. But perhaps his wife deserved to know some sort of truth. “Er, you were right. I’m having dreams again. But, they’re not like before. I don’t even really remember them.”

“Hmmm.” She held her chin, rubbing it absentmindedly. “If you don’t remember them…then why does it matter, really? Lots of people don’t remember their dreams. It’s actually pretty normal.” 

Sighing deeper, he figured he’d let her know as much as he could--minus the whole Malfoy turning him gay part. That was something even Harry didn’t want to know about. “I’m pretty sure it’s the result of my memories being erased. Er…or rather, blocked.”

Harry heard her breath suck in sharply. Her color paled. “You think someone oblivated you?” He nodded at her question and she slumped in her chair afterwards. “Wow…that’s…insane. How can you be sure? I mean…if your memories are blocked, how are you even aware something is amiss anyway?” 

Biting on his lip nervously, he thought how best to phrase this without sounding crazy, and without revealing too much. Finally he settled for, “Ginny…have you ever felt like a piece of you was missing? It’s almost as if I have the beginning of the story, the end, but not all of what happened to get me here. I remember defeating Voldemort, I remember getting together with you--but that didn’t happen right away, did it?”

A pout started to form on her lips. “Harry…the year after Voldemort’s death was rather hard for you. Ron, Hermione, and I just felt it was best to give you the space you really wanted. We knew you’d come around eventually, and we never pushed it. So many people died--and we all mourn differently. We understood, and left you to figure out your own ways of coping. You became distant--always running off somewhere or another. But Harry, that doesn‘t matter anymore. The fact is, you came back.”

Looking at Harry, she noticed he still looked concerned. “Do you remember the day you came back? You had that fire in your eyes again--and, Merlin, how much I missed you. You came up to me in the garden at the Burrow. Do you remember that?” Ginny searched Harry’s eyes hopefully. 

He nodded, smiling sweetly at her. God, how could he forget something like that? “Yes, I remember. It was the day we first…made love to each other. Ginny, I could never forget that.” 

Grinning at his response she said, “So, maybe you were oblivated. But it seems to me you remember all the important things. The fact that you could go this long and not even realize something was missing in the first place shows that it probably wasn’t that important to begin with.”

Giving her a weak smile he said, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Somehow, he felt it couldn’t be that simple though. If it wasn’t so important--why was Harry trying so desperately to figure things out? Just what was missing from his life? What happened during that mystery year? Harry honestly couldn’t remember the details. Was it crazy to even think that perhaps him and Malfoy…

An owl swooped in through the kitchen window, startling both Ginny and Harry. It was an owl Harry had not recognized, but Ginny certainly had. She groaned as it landed on her side of the table and extended a letter for her to take. Ripping open the envelope she scanned the contents and then sighed heavily. “Well, never mind about that shopping trip. It’s fucking O’Connell again.”

Sean O’Connell used to play Seeker for the Kenmare Kestrels after Aidan Kiely retired in ‘98. Throughout Ginny’s quidditch career with the Harpies, the two argued incessantly. He had the nerve to say that the only reason she was accepted into the quidditch league was because she was dating the-boy-who-saved-us-all. Ever since, Ginny made it a priority to rub it in the git’s face that she was an excellent player--winning game after game against their team.

When she retired to pursue a journalism career, O’Connell retired shortly after. She was relieved to be free from having to see the fool during the matches she had to cover. Ginny had complained on more than one occasion of him taunting her from the air, “See that Gin? You think Potter could do that?” He’d shout at her over the cheers as he caught the snitch in an impressive twirl, narrowly missing as two bludgers smacked an inch from his head. It was good when he left the quidditch scene…that was, until his next career move.

The idiot had the gall to follow in her footsteps and become his own freelance reporter for Ireland’s _Magical Tribune._ What followed next was a series of ridiculous one-ups on each other. Not only were they watching and reporting on the quidditch games, but now they had a game all their own--and whoever wrote the best editorial or captured the most interesting aspect in the game won. Harry thought the whole thing was rather ludicrous, honestly.

“He’s got an exclusive interview with Williams. I can’t believe the arse,” she groaned, throwing the letter across the table. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for weeks, but he hasn’t returned my calls. I can’t believe this!” Ginny huffed, leaving the kitchen. 

Going into the living room he watched her run back from upstairs. She had her coat on, scarf hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, and she was trying frantically to flatten it out. “Sorry, Harry. You think you’ll be all right to get the robes for Al? I just didn’t even know Williams was back in the country, honestly. He’s supposed to have been abroad for at least another two weeks.” 

Waving her away Harry said, “Don’t worry about me. Do what you have to do, Gin..” 

She gave him a wide smile, leaned over and pecked his lips. “Thanks.” Then she walked out the front door and Harry heard her pop of apparation. 

Shaking his head, Harry made his way back upstairs to their bedroom. He stood in front of the mirror, frowning. Perhaps this wasn’t the best outfit to wear to go out with Astoria. Not like it was a date or anything of the sort--but somehow Harry still wanted to make a good impression. This thought had absolutely nothing to do with the tiny chance he might run into Malfoy, though.

Eventually Harry settled for another pair of slacks that fitted him slightly better around the waist and a nice button down shirt that he wasn’t swimming in. At 11 sharp, he popped on over to the gates of Malfoy manor. The smell of lilies, roses, and lavender filled his nose almost immediately and the scent was vaguely familiar and comforting. 

“Harry, dear,” Astoria greeted him cheerfully, waving her hands and the gate opened for her. Harry stepped on through and met up with her. She wasted no time and quickly hugged him as if they were long time friends.

Harry politely offered his arm for her, and she took it. “The portkey is still inside. I should have it ready in a few minutes. Would you like some tea while we wait?” 

“I’d love some.” 

Inside the house, she led him to a study off to the East Wing. Harry sat down on a plush couch, running his hands nervously along his pants legs. Astoria stayed standing, and simply clapped her hands. “Mibby dear!” she called. 

The house elf appeared instantaneously. She bowed quickly in front of Astoria before asking, “Yes, Mrs. Malfoy?” 

“Please bring Mr. Potter and myself some tea, will you?” 

Mibby looked quickly over at Harry, just now realizing he was there. Her eyes turned to saucers and she exclaimed, “Mr. Harry Potter! How good it is for Mibby to see you again! Too long, Mr. Potter! Too long, indeed!” She bounced over to him and started to reach for Harry’s coat. “Please sir, let Mibby take your coat!” 

Harry felt incredibly uneasy. He had never seen this elf before in his life--but she seemed convinced they met previously. Trying to seem as if nothing was wrong, he quickly shook out of his coat for her. When she snapped her fingers and Harry watched his coat fly across the room, he had the strong feeling of déjà vu. Before he could dwell on that, Mibby disapparated and a moment later she reappeared with a tray. She settled it on the coffee table in front of Harry. 

“Will you be all right here while I go get the portkey?” Astoria asked as she made her way to the door. 

“Of course,” Harry nodded, watching her leave. 

As soon as she disappeared from his line of sight Harry quickly turned to the house elf that was pouring him a cup of tea. “Er…Mibby?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes Mr. Potter?” she asked, her whole face beaming. Apparently she was very fond of Harry--but that was not a new feeling Harry had with house elves. Perhaps she knew Dobby.

“When was the last time you saw me?” he asked quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth anxiously. 

Tilting her head, she began counting on her fingers. After a minute of calculations she said, “Well, sir Harry Potter hasn’t seen Mibby since the new millennium. You used to visit all the time--then didn’t. Master Malfoy was very angry--very upset.” 

Harry began to sweat as the new information wrapped around him. If he truly did visit then, that would have dated it to exactly a year after the battle of Hogwarts. The mystery year. Did Harry really come to the manor to disappear during that year? What was he doing here? And why was Malfoy upset? Did they have another fight--causing him to erase Harry’s memory? There couldn’t be any other explanation.

“Um, Mibby. Do you know what I did when I came to visit?” he asked, leaning towards the elf. Harry was on the edge of his seat and he could feel his pulse racing. 

The question bothered her and she wailed loudly, covering her ears. Harry gaped at her, looking around anxiously. He really didn’t want Astoria or Draco walking in at any moment--he could feel he was so close to something. Harry desperately reached for the elf, trying to calm her down. She shook out of Harry’s grasp and muttered with her hands still on her ears, “Mibby is forbidden. Mibby can never say. Mr. Harry Potter sir, you know what you did here. Mibby knows nothing!” 

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Right, sorry.” Before he could think much about what Mibby knew, Astoria returned with an oversized purse over her shoulder and she was buttoning up her coat. She didn’t even pay any attention to the elf who skittishly vanished a second later.

“Ready, Harry?” she asked, her eyes bright and almost as green as his. Without a word Harry’s own coat came sailing back to him and landed on his lap. 

Eying her up and down, he frowned. “Where’s the portkey?” he asked. 

Smiling knowingly she held out her handbag. It was made of pristine crocodile skin, dyed a beautiful shade of cream. There was a small tag attached to the purse-strap. On the label was the monogram LV. She brandished the tag out and said, “Hold here, Harry.” 

What felt like eternity but was really just a few uncomfortable seconds, Harry and Astoria were transported into a small room that had no windows and only one door. There was an ornately decorated couch resting against one wall and a large mirror facing across from it. Astoria tugged on the front of her dress, smoothing out any wrinkles that were caused from their travel. She checked herself in the mirror, running a hand through her hair before she turned to Harry. “Well, we should get a move on. They are expecting us, after all.” 

Harry nodded, making his way to the door that he held open for her. The door led them to a hallway lined with other doors, but he could hear music and people talking in the distance. She took his arm as they made their way out before Harry asked, “So where are we?” 

Soon the hallway opened out into a large store. The place was incredibly roomy, with golden shelves lined throughout. Even though the floor plan could have held a lot more products--there were only a select few items lined immaculately here and there. Purses and luggage were on display with their own spot lights, chained to the pedestals they rested on. People (Muggles) walked carefully from handbag to wallet to suitcase, each marveling at the work of art. It definitely seemed to Harry that this place was more like a museum than an actual store.

“We are at the Champs-Elysees location of Louis Vuitton, of course,” she grinned, dragging Harry to a rather prominent display, square in the middle of the store. She sighed wistfully at the monogrammed bright red handbag. “Isn’t it lovely? I might need to drop a hint or two for Draco. It certainly has been awhile since he’s gotten me a bag…” Astoria stroked her own cream bag fondly, then turned to Harry. “Oh, we could get something for your wife. Do you think she’d like something like this?” she motioned to another table where a smaller, less flashy purse was resting. 

Harry picked it up, admiring the craftsmanship. Then he pulled out the price tag that was discretely wedged inside and choked. He set the bag back down promptly, feeling ill. Why anyone would want to spend that much on a purse--he’d never understand. “Oh no, I’m not sure she’d like that one,” Harry quickly said in return. 

Astoria nodded, allowing Harry to take her out of the store. After seeing the price on that modest bag, he knew nothing in there would have been within his price range. Yes, the Potters were relatively well off--but that was simply due to careful monetary management. Harry and Ginny stuck to a budget and very rarely splurged. He knew if he were to have gotten her anything from Louis Vuitton she’d probably be furious and demand he return it. 

Given the time, Astoria suggested heading to the restaurant for lunch. They had a reservation and were seated promptly in a quiet corner of the room, away from the majority of the other guests. None of the muggles paid any attention to Harry, but several craned their necks to look at Astoria. It seemed that even in the muggle world, people seemed to think she was royalty. 

“Mmmm…how was your quail?” she asked, dabbing her mouth neatly with her napkin.

Harry had honestly never tasted anything quite so flavorful in his life. “It was exquisite.”

Smiling warmly she said, “I knew you’d like it. It’s Draco’s favorite. We always have to come here on our trips to France.” Astoria picked up her glass of wine and took a ginger sip, giggling. “I’m sure he’s going to be upset when he finds out we went without him.” 

He couldn’t help the spike in interest he felt when she mentioned Draco. Harry had to ask, “Oh? Well why didn’t he come then?”

Laughter escaped her lips. “Oh Harry, I’m not a fool. I know all about your childhood rivalry. Though really, I’m surprised that its lasted for as long as it has. You both are grown men now--surely you two could get along?” Then she sighed, shaking her head. “And then last night--I don’t know what you said to him, Harry. But he was pretty bothered. ‘Stupid Potter’ this and ‘bloody poof’ that. Just what did you do?”

_Bloody poof, eh? Like he’s one to talk!_ Harry thought, feeling the familiar irritation start to rise within. Astoria watched him closely, a smile forming on her lips as she watched Harry try to control his anger. God, she probably does think we are nothing but children. He straightened in his seat then tried to respond with as calm a voice he could, “Oh, it was nothing. Just ran into him at the Hog’s Head.” 

Grinning, she finished her glass of wine and set it on the table. A waiter promptly appeared to refill her glass and she shook her head, politely declining in perfect French. “I guess there’s no use in trying to convince you two to become friends. Old habits die hard and all that.” She reached for her purse and before she stood up from the table she asked, “Are you ready, Harry?” He nodded and the pair of them left. Harry could still feel the eyes of the other patrons on them as they entered out into the street.

About 10 minutes later they arrived in front of a busy boutique. Muggles were rushing in and out of the store as if they were giving things away. Harry met Astoria’s eyes and furrowed his brow. “Aren’t we going in for robes?” Why would a Muggle store carry dress robes?

Nodding, she went ahead Harry into the store. He followed after her and through the crowd. Inside, the place was a racket--people chattering excitedly in between the displays. There were mannequins donned in elegant dresses, suits and ties, jeans, shorts. The store had all sorts of attire--but Harry couldn’t see any sort of wizard’s clothing. 

At last the crowd was starting to thin out as they made their way deeper. They were now at the far wall of the store where last season’s fashion was all marked down. None of the muggles seemed interested in any of the clothes back there. Then Astoria saw a mirror and headed right for it…and she just kept going. She walked right on through. _Oh, I get it._ Harry looked quickly around and noticed no one paid him any attention before he followed after her.

Harry could feel the magical energy the moment he stepped through. This room was about the same size as the muggle storefront, but not nearly as crowded. There only seemed to be three other customers besides him and Astoria. Each of them were wearing elegant robes and one gentleman even had on a very brightly colored flamboyant hat. The three of them glanced at Astoria and Harry then returned to the rack of garments they were looking at nonchalantly.

“Astoria, darling!” a soothing voice called a moment later. A tall lank man approached with golden hair and matching color eyes. He wore..well, honestly Harry had no idea how to really describe it. It looked like a robe, but stopped halfway to his belt. There were large buttons across his chest embedded deep into the dark purple velvet, and he wore complementary lavender pants underneath. It was almost as if this look (much like the store) was half muggle-half wizard and Harry was truly intrigued. 

“Ethan, so good to see you,” she smiled, leaning in and politely kissing both his cheeks. He returned the gesture. Then he backed away and eyed Harry curiously. “Oh, and this is Harry Potter of course. Harry, this is Ethan Leclair, fashion genius.” 

Ethan gave Astoria a large smile from the praise, then he took Harry’s hand lightly and shook it promptly. “Enchanté.” A moment later and he was showing them his latest creations with enthusiasm. Astoria let out a pleasing hum as she ran her fingers over the delicate fabrics. Harry tried to stand near her and not look too out of place. He could certainly appreciate the beauty of fashion, but he was rather ignorant about most of it.

Thankfully it didn’t take long for Astoria to find a pair of robes she thought would be fitting for their sons. Albus’s robe was a similar style to that of what Ethan wore, but the color was a rich dark green (almost black) with brilliant emerald stitching. Scorpius’s robe was more of an open-style robe with only a single silver clasp around the chest and the satin fabric was a light bluish gray. Ethan waved his wand at Scorpius’s robe and it proceeded to bunch up and stretch to adjust to the proper size. Turning to Harry he asked, “Do you have your son’s measurements?” 

Harry reached inside his pocket and handed him the scroll. Not much later and Albus’s robe was constricting and expanding in much the same way. Once everything was in order, Astoria insisted on paying for everything (much to Harry’s frustration). Harry only allowed her to get it when she suggested he could pay for next year’s set of dress robes for the boys. He figured that was fair enough.

Afterwards they visited a muggle sweet shop and purchased lemon madeleines and macaroons. Then they went into a store that sold wine. The shopkeeper glanced at Astoria and knew instantly what she was there for. He came out from the back of the store brandishing a wrapped bottle for her. Before the pair left the store, Harry heard the man say, “Transmettez mes amitiés à Draco.” 

It was starting to get late so Astoria lead them to an abandoned alley. She waved her beautifully carved wand over her purse. They grabbed the label a second later and were pulled back to the manor. Mibby must have immediately felt their presence because she was at their feet, taking the shopping bags from Astoria and Harry. The elf shuffled off shortly after.

Just when Harry was about to say he should get going, Astoria offered, “Have some tea with me?” 

With the lack of sleep he had last night and the pot of coffee having worn off hours ago, tea sounded fantastic. “Sure. Sounds great.” 

Astoria always had her late afternoon tea in the alcove that looked out to the backyard gardens. There was only a single loveseat perched in front of the vast window and they settled down. Harry sighed gratefully, taking in the aroma from his cup. They nursed their tea for a couple of minutes in silence. Harry wondered if her and Draco sat here together often. _Probably not,_ thought Harry sadly. No doubt the git would be too busy with his other extracurricular activities. 

“Draco loves these things,” she smiled fondly, reaching for a lemon madeleine and taking a small bite. Hearing the sweet tone of her voice whenever she mentioned her husband only seemed to irritate Harry. This beautifully polite woman was being completely taken advantage of--and he had enough of it. Malfoy didn’t deserve her, and she needed to know the truth. 

“Astoria,” he said, reaching over for her hand. Her eyes widened from the gesture. “I have something I need to tell you.” 

“What is it?” she asked, her voice raising slightly in worry. 

“Malfoy…er, Draco. He’s not being honest with you.” Harry bit his lip, thinking quickly how to phrase this. A small part of him was starting to regret even bringing it up. Surely this wasn’t his place to say things. But he had already started, and he was going to need to finish.

“Harry, what is it?” She had set down her cup on the small end table beside them, her eyes searching his for the answer. 

Sighing in resignation, Harry went ahead. “Your husband…he’s gay. I heard from a friend, and then just yesterday at the Hog’s Head he pretty much confirmed it. I just thought you should know…” He looked down into his cup of tea, frowning. Harry didn’t want to see her face or the hurt she was likely to feel.

There was silence and then Harry could feel her shaking next to him. He looked up quickly and then she couldn’t hold it in anymore and started giggling hysterically. Harry’s mouth dropped, and her laughter increased in volume. “Oh Harry…the look on your face. It’s priceless,” she gasped out. 

“Wait…what?” Harry’s face felt hot. “Did you hear what I just said?” 

Astoria patted his arm, attempting to calm him down. Her laughter died down but the smile on her face looked like it could break any minute into more giggles. “Yes, yes,” she waved absentmindedly. “I know. I’ve always known. I knew before even he did, honestly. He was so obvious at school. Couldn’t you tell?” Snorting, she poured more tea for Harry and said, “Nah, I guess you were too busy with trying to save the world and all that. Didn’t want to concern yourself with us Slytherins.” 

Harry was genuinely confused. “Astoria, how could you marry someone you knew was gay?” 

Shrugging, she took another sip of tea. Astoria set it down on the table before she said, “I didn’t think it mattered, really. We never really had a choice. Our families had already planned our marriage before we even went to Hogwarts. Carry on the pureblood legacy and all that.” She smiled, leaning closer to Harry. “It was also kind of nice when we were engaged. _Witch Weekly_ named him the most eligible bachelor of the year 2000. When we announced our intent to marry, that’s when the fame started to really pick up.”

“Now I’m being compared to some Muggle duchess and more famous than even Draco. It’s hilarious, really. His fortune was the reason my family wanted me to marry him so badly--I was always considered Draco’s Malfoy’s wife. Now, people are starting to address him as Astoria Malfoy’s husband. He _hates_ that. I absolutely _love_ it.” Smirking, she reached for another lemon biscuit. 

“So, you know that he…” Harry trailed off, thinking how best to phrase what he was trying to say.

“Sleeps with other men?” Astoria supplied for him. 

His face burned, and he could feel the familiar blush come up his neck. “Er yeah…that.” 

Grinning, she scooted closer on the couch. Her knee brushed against his. Harry tried to think nothing of it. “Oh yeah. He has his men on the side---and well, I…” Then her hand moved from the table and she rested it on Harry’s knee. “And I have mine.” 

He stared at her like he wasn’t really registering what was happening. She was leaning closer to him, and Harry knew something wasn’t right here. But before his mind could quite kick into gear, he heard the doors burst open. 

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking between Astoria and Harry. He took in the sight before him and instantly his face was livid, scrunched into such a hatred Harry never saw before. If he was a dog he’d look absolutely rabid, with foam forming at the mouth. A second later and he yelled at his wife with a booming voice, “What is HE doing here?"


	9. Fire With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History tends to repeat itself. Harry and Malfoy argue. New discoveries are made.

Unfazed by his fury, Astoria waved at Draco. “Oh, please. Drop the act. He knows, all right?”

Malfoy wasn’t listening. He stormed completely into the room and rounded on Harry this time. “What are you doing here? In MY house? Get out. Get out right now!” His chest was heaving erratically, eyes burning right into Harry. If this was an act, he deserved an Oscar. 

Harry stood up from the loveseat, Astoria’s hand reaching for him to sit back down. Harry ignored it because Malfoy just gave him a deathly glare. Off to the side Astoria huffed out at her husband, “Draco, you are being ridiculous! I invited him here. Calm down!” 

His intense gray eyes snapped away from Harry and focused on his wife. “I will NOT calm down. I thought I was very clear how much I fucking hate him. Then you invite him here? Are you fucking mad?” Harry could feel the rage coming off him, infecting the room. The lights flickered as if they too couldn’t handle all of the emotion in such a small room. 

She was standing now, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Excuse me? Since when do you care who I bring to the house? He’s my friend--and frankly I’ve had enough of this childish rivalry bullshit. You are a grown ass man. Start acting like one!” 

Stepping closer to his wife, Malfoy seethed. Next, their tea cups flew wildly across the room, shattering to the floor. Harry’s auror instincts kicked in and he stepped in between them. “Back off, Malfoy,” he said firmly. It’s not like he thought Malfoy would strike his wife--but Harry had felt that magic. He knew if he lost control it could be nothing but disastrous. 

She looked at the pile of porcelain on the floor and back at Draco. Then she groaned in irritation. “Fine, whatever. You two kill each other. I’ll be in the dining room.” And with that she marched out of the alcove, her dress whipping furiously behind her. 

Once she left, Malfoy turned from Harry. His shoulders sagged slightly. “Get out,” He drawled, his tone still cutting through.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry growled. Then he remembered his epiphany last night, and figured now was the perfect time to bring up the memory charm. “Especially now that I know what you did to me. I could have you arrested, you know. For misuse of a magical charm--on the Head Auror no less. I’m sure that’d land you more than enough years.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Malfoy whipped his head around, his eyes darting to look at him. 

“Memory charm. I know you did it.” Harry raised his wand at Malfoy, threatening. “Now tell me what the fuck you are hiding. Why’d you do it?” 

He stepped back, Malfoy’s eyes looking as if he’d seen a Dementor. All the color was drained from his face. “I…” He looked at Harry, then at his wand. The knob at his throat bobbed before he said softly, “Potter, I didn’t do it.” 

Looking closely at him, Harry tried to assess the situation. Part of Harry actually secretly hoped that Malfoy was telling the truth--but he couldn’t be entirely too sure. He decided then what he needed to do. He needed to bring him in for questioning. “Turn around,” he ordered. “Put your hands up and behind your head.” 

Grey eyes went from sincere to the trademark anger Harry was so accustomed to. “To hell with that!” he scoffed, whipping his wand out. He waved his arm to cast but Harry was quicker. Instead of his regular disarming spell, he tackled Malfoy to the floor. He ripped the wand out of his hands--so similar to the way he did all those years ago, in that very house. 

Harry had him pinned down and quickly pocketed the wand while Malfoy tried to catch his breath and reorient himself. “You are under arrest,” Harry huffed, blowing hot air right in his face. “For pulling a wand out on an officer. Surrender now!” 

Finally regaining himself, Malfoy shifted. His grey eyes looked up at Harry’s and that’s when he felt it. The magic. It had been there the instant they touched, but Harry was too lost in the moment of trying to arrest him. Now, laying here--it was flowing over between the two of them with such an intensity Harry felt it seep into his lungs and he had a hard time trying to breathe. 

“Get…get off me, Potter,” Malfoy gasped out. Could the magic have been doing the same to him? Or was it Harry simply on top of him with his arm digging into his chest?

“No,” growled Harry--fighting the burning sensation that was starting to lash at his skin. “Not going anywhere till you give up,” he said, determined. 

Suddenly, Malfoy managed to jerk his legs out from under. He was trying to bring them up to his knees so he could kick Harry right in the stomach. Harry moved his body so that he straddled one of his thighs down, his other free arm reaching down for Malfoy’s other leg. A groan was heard through the struggle--and then Harry was suddenly aware of something horrifying. 

Malfoy was hard. Harry could feel it pressed up against his thigh. The magical heat was burning every inch that they touched--but there, it was scorching. And strangely, even though his whole body felt like it was going to combust from the sheer contact, Harry felt his own cock twitch traitorously. 

Malfoy’s eyes widened underneath him. “P-Potter,” he gasped out again. 

His face flushed, ears turning pink. “Shut up,” Harry demanded. “Shut the fuck up right now.” He didn’t need to hear anything from the other man. If Malfoy so much as said anything about what was happening between his legs, he was going to kill him right there. 

Then Harry felt Malfoy surrender under him. Or rather, that’s what he thought happened. He felt his body go completely lax and Harry looked over at his face. Malfoy’s eyes were open--dazed, not blinking. He looked…dead. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, feeling suddenly very sick. The image of that awful dream rushing to the surface of his mind. “MALFOY!” he shouted, suddenly bolting off of him. 

“Malfoy! Wake up!” He picked up his limp body and held him in a sitting position. “God damnit!” 

Astoria burst into the room upon hearing the commotion. She got one look at Draco and shrieked. “Draco!” She flung to the floor beside him. “Oh my God. Is he?” 

Harry pushed aside Malfoy’s shirt collar aside frantically. He jammed his thumb into his throat and could feel a very faint pulse. He sighed in relief. “No..he’s…he’s alive.” 

“I need to take him to St. Mungo’s,” Astoria said urgently. She reached for him and wrapped her arms around his body. Harry let go, standing up. “Take the floo on the second floor. I don’t have time to open the wards and allow for you to apparate.” And with that she side-alonged with Malfoy, the pop of apparation echoing in the room. 

Scrambling up the stairs, his body seemed to be in autopilot. He walked down the hall to a drawing room. Somehow, Harry knew this was the room that had the floo. Bursting through the doors, he walked right to the fireplace and threw some powder in. 

Arriving at the hospital, he saw Astoria just turning around a corner. Harry caught up with her. Ahead of them a nurse was pushing Malfoy on a stretcher and leading them into a room. Once inside another nurse joined them and they proceeded to take his clothes off for examination. Harry had his head turned, but as soon as his skin was visible in the room he heard Astoria gasp in alarm. “Oh my God!”

Harry looked over at Malfoy. The whole front of his body was bright red in color, large blisters covering every surface of skin. Harry’s stomach lurched, suddenly feeling very sick. 

“He’s gone into shock,” the mediwitch by Malfoy’s head said. She was turning his face, peering intensely at him. Harry saw a distinct mark on his neck--the same spot where he had touched him to check for a pulse. 

The other nurse was putting a thick paste all over his skin and wrapping loose bandages around Malfoy. She was murmuring softly and waving her wand all over him. Astoria leaned closer to her and asked, “Is he going to be all right? Will he be able to heal?” 

The witch frowned, looking up from a nasty patch of blood red skin. “Mrs. Malfoy, your husband has suffered extreme magical burns. The whole front of his body has been effected, digging through even to the deepest of layers. We have to let the salve heal the wounds--and that takes time. But once it has worked its magic, yes, he should be able to heal.” 

Astoria and Harry sighed in relief. Then she asked, “How long do you think it’ll be for my husband? A week? A month?” 

“It’s hard to say right now. We will see how he looks in the morning and can give you a better estimate when we know more about his condition.” The nurse reached the end of Malfoy’s burns and met Astoria’s eyes seriously. “Do you know what could have caused something like this?”

Harry took a step hesitantly back, suddenly feeling the wave of guilt wash all over him. Then he heard her say rather solemnly, “Yes, I know what happened.” The other witch at Malfoy’s head looked away from her patient and up at Astoria--both nurses now holding their breath, waiting for her to explain further. She breathed in deeply and continued, “Those are _foedus_ burns.”

The younger witch at his head pouted, her brow furrowed in confusion. The other one nodded curtly and turned to a side table, picking up a scroll. She scribbled and then assured Astoria, “Not to worry, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ll just make a note here. We’ll be on our most professional behavior so as not threaten his condition.”

“Thank you, Ms.--” she scanned for her nametag briefly. “Ms. Avery.” Astoria paused then looked critically between both mediwitches. “I’d appreciate it if this incident could be kept strictly confidential. My husband and I have worked very hard to keep such personal matters out of the press.” 

There was murmured agreements, but Harry’s mind was beginning to swim. What the hell were _foedus_ burns? All he knew was that somehow every where that he had touched Malfoy, his skin had began to scald. Yes, he had felt the heat between them at the time--but he had no intention to actually burn the man. It reminded him too much of how he burnt Professor Quirrell all those years ago and Harry didn’t like that idea at all. 

He must have looked just as ill as he felt. Because no sooner had the nurses left the room that Astoria rounded on him, looking worried. “Harry, are you all right?”

“Me? Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He turned his gaze to her, biting his lip. “How about you though? It’s your husband that’s burned. Are you going to be ok?” 

She nodded slowly then pulled out a handkerchief. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes delicately. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” Without thinking Harry took a step closer to her and wrapped an arm around her in a loose comforting hug. She choked back a cry saying, “Harry. I’m sorry to have to do this, but I think it would be best…” 

“What is it?” he asked.

Looking at Harry, her face turned to stone. In a serious tone she said, “You need to leave him alone. Obviously you shouldn’t touch him--but it is more than that. I can’t believe I never figured it out sooner. But either way, you need to remove yourself from his life. I know you don’t mean it, but Harry, you are literally killing him.” 

Feeling the room close in around him, Harry gripped the bed rail beside Malfoy’s sleeping form. “I didn’t mean to, Astoria. I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted him to answer a few questions--and he’s just been avoiding me. He’s hiding something and I really want to know what it is.” 

She placed her hand on his forearm, shaking her head. “Harry. You have to stop. This…fixation on Draco has got to stop. I’m sorry.” 

Shaking off her hand, he met her eyes determined. “Astoria. He’s erased my memory. This is serious. I want to know what he’s taken from me.” 

Biting her lip she looked back at Draco again. He let out a little whimper in his sleep. Not moving her gaze from her husband, she muttered to Harry, “I’ll talk to him. I’ll figure out what’s going on.” She paused and looked up at the clock on the wall. “You should probably go. It’s getting rather late.” 

Harry gave her one last comforting hug before he decided to leave. “Goodnight, Astoria.” Then he settled his gaze on the man lying in the bed. Malfoy’s hair was spread out all over his pillow and it practically glowed from the moonlight seeping into the room. He didn’t know what was happening, but somehow he wanted more than anything to feel that soft hair--to brush his stray locks away from his face in a sweet gesture. 

However, seeing the rest of his bandaged body, Harry knew better. Instead he inhaled sharply, trying to keep his breathing level. He murmured quietly over him, “Goodnight…Draco.” 

He was already out the door when Malfoy turned in his sleep and mumbled out, “Harry…”

 

“Let’s run away together,” Harry suggested, curling himself next to Malfoy on the bed. The bed at Grimmauld Place was a little smaller than that in Draco’s rooms but the couple never seemed to complain much. It just allowed them to be able to sleep even closer together, which surely had its benefits.

“And do what, Potter?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Get a house by the beach, make love in the sand. Walk our dogs--maybe have a kid or two,” he said, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss to the other man’s shoulder. Draco shuddered from the contact which made Harry smile even wider.

“God, what are you? A Hufflepuff or something?” 

He pulled Draco by the chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. “Draco, I’m serious. Let’s get out of here.” He sighed, running a hand deep into his black mop of hair. “The press is getting unbearable. It’s getting harder to sneak around. I just…I just don’t want to have to think or worry about all that. I just want to be with you, take you on a date, whatever--without fearing that one of your father’s friends will come and kill us both.” 

“You know father wouldn’t do all that. He wouldn’t kill us. I’m his only--”

“Heir, yes. It seems like all he cares about is the moment you’ll have a kid of your own. How do you think he’s going to react when he finds out that you’re queer for Harry Potter?” 

Draco sighed, turning on his side so he was completely face to face with Harry. “Listen, I know you just wouldn’t understand. But being a pureblood does have certain responsibilities to uphold. One way or another, I’m going to have to produce an heir--and well, get married.” 

“You could marry me,” offered Harry quickly. Then he desperately wished he could have put his foot in his mouth. What was he thinking, saying something like that? 

Malfoy responded just like Harry knew he would. He backed out of his embrace, his eyes practically shooting out of his head. “Are you…are you proposing?” He asked Harry in a voice that sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Er, well. I wasn’t really planning on it. But…” he bit his lip nervously, raking a hand through his hair. “If you want to say yes, then…yes, I’m proposing.” 

Weighing what he had just said, Draco searched his eyes for an answer. Harry felt his stomach flutter, honestly hoping he didn’t ruin anything. He didn’t want to rush into a marriage--but then, Malfoy and him had known each other for years. And Harry had known there was no one else that could make him feel the way that this man made him feel. 

“You’re mental,” Draco finally managed to say. He had regained his composure and now had that beautiful smirk upon his lips once more. 

Grinning, Harry leaned in and gave him a quick kiss upon his lips. “I’m not hearing a no…” 

A pillow collided with the side of his face. Draco raised his arms and tried to hit Harry again, but Harry had bolted upright and found his own pillow. They each swung at each other, laughing. They fought for several minutes--Draco landing a nice hit that knocked the glasses right off Harry’s face. With his blurred vision, Harry did the only thing he could think of to get the upper hand. He pounced on Malfoy, trapping him under his whole body weight. Draco struggled underneath him, but was unable to pull himself away. Draco let out a groan and said, “Oomph. Potter, you big lunk, get off me.” 

Panting from their struggle, Harry shook his head. “Nope. You have to answer first.” 

“My father would--”

“I don’t give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy,” interrupted Harry. The words hung in the air and he cracked a grin at Malfoy. He purposefully said that knowing full well he told Draco those same exact words years before. He wondered if the other man would notice.

Draco let out a small snort, obviously picking it up. “Right, of course. What would make me think you’d have a change of heart after all these years? How silly of me.” He looked away from Harry, his eyes locking on the moon visible outside the window. 

Harry tried a different approach. “If I didn’t know any better, Draco, I’d say you were scared.”

“I’m not scared, Potter!” The other man bit back automatically. Harry’s grin reached new heights. 

Leaning over him, Harry began to leave gentle kisses just under Draco’s ear. It was a sensitive area that Harry exploited on more than one occasion. Sure enough, Malfoy began writhing underneath him, moaning softly. “So…is that a yes?” he asked a little while later, sucking firmer against Draco’s neck. 

Sighing in his arms, he backed away from the lips on his neck. Draco’s gaze moved away from the window and locked on Harry. Both held their breath, hearts racing. Almost a full minute later of looking into those green eyes, Draco finally managed to croak out, “Yes. Yes, you idiot.” 

Lips clashed almost immediately after. Harry felt his breath leave him as Draco kissed him like it was the last thing on Earth. They had kissed so many times already--but nothing quite like this. Their lips tingled and all at once Harry felt his magic pour into the other man--felt Draco’s magic surge within him. In that moment he felt so incredibly powerful that he could have killed an army of Voldemorts, flown across the world in a split second, and restored all of Hogwarts with a simple flick of his wrist. 

In that moment, they were like two sides of the same coin. Connected in such a way that Harry never believed could be humanly possible. For every weakness, Harry felt the strength of Draco pushing through. And without a doubt in his mind, Harry knew Draco felt the same. It was like living in a mirror. He could feel, hear and be completely in tune to the other man. All he needed was Draco, and as long as he had him Harry could do anything. 

The feeling was almost too much. The emotions were wrecking him to the core and Harry couldn’t help the tears that started to flow freely down his cheeks. He knew that in the future _this_ would be the memory he would pull from to cast a Patronous. Never in his life had Harry felt more happy--nor more alive. 

Gasping for breath, Harry jolted awake. The memories were starting to slip away and Harry frantically reached for the parchment on his bedside table. He scribbled furiously phrases that didn’t make much sense but Harry knew this was what he had to do. 

_Happy. Magic. Kiss. Connection._ Groaning, Harry hit his head with the palm of his hand. There was something else. He just knew it. He strained further, trying to coax even the smallest of details from his mind. And then he found it. Without any hesitation he wrote _Marriage._

He stared at that last word for minutes, not really believing that it was really there. Then he looked over at Ginny nestled underneath the covers and the guilt consumed him. The feeling stifled him, and he had to get out of there. Downstairs in the kitchen he put the kettle on with shaking hands. He sat at the small table, his eyes glued to the parchment. 

The thoughts raced throughout. Even though he couldn’t remember the dream he somehow knew what it was about. At one point, he was happy. Truly mind numbing happy. It was almost like the first time he flew on his broom, chasing after Malfoy to get that stupid Remembrall. The rush and exhilaration of flying for the first time is something Harry would never be able to forget. 

However, the happiness from his dream was another feeling to a whole other intensity. He felt the feeling swelling in his heart as he wiped the tears from his face as he woke up. The only other feeling that could compare to that was the birth of his children. It was rather insane to think that someone who spent his whole life taunting Harry could bring about such a strong emotion in him. Even though, now that he thought about it, he always seemed to have strong emotions towards Malfoy. 

Turning to the second word, he tried not to think too much about it. Magic was a constant presence in a lot of his dreams and not all that unusual. But what was more troubling was the third word. Had he kissed Malfoy? His stomach tightened as that thought started to form in his mind. What if he and Malfoy had kissed before? That they had kissed countless times in the past--and Harry had forgotten about it? 

The tea kettle whistled loudly, and Harry practically fell out of his chair. His hands were shaking as he poured himself a cup and settled back down. Subconsciously, he trailed a finger thoughtfully along his lips. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss him--to kiss another man. As another man, Harry figured his lips would be rough, harsh--and not at all like the sweet lips of Ginny. Malfoy would be strong too--for that Harry was absolutely sure of. He could easily see that Malfoy would give as much as he’d take, and Harry was shocked to think that idea was not a bad thing at all. In fact…

Groaning, Harry palmed his growing erection to try and calm himself down. His face was flushed, thoroughly embarrassed with himself. He needed to think of something else--and fast. Looking at the parchment again, he found the next word he wrote. 

This word was even worse than the last, with the way Harry’s brain seemed to be heading. A connection could have been a number of things--but all Harry could think about was the pressure between his legs and the certain connection he was starting to crave just moments before. Now they were back in that room at the Manor and Harry was holding him down. Malfoy was hard, he was hard. He had wanted to…

“Fuck,” growled Harry, shaking his head. This was not good…not good, at all. Desperately, he scanned the last word, even though he already knew what it said. Silently, he hoped it’d have changed but to no avail. 

Marriage. The word practically mocked him silently. Had him and Malfoy discussed marriage? Were they that serious? Harry couldn’t even fathom Malfoy even considering it. It was pretty laughable, really. Malfoy was a cold hearted bastard that couldn’t even have a proper marriage. He knew nothing about the importance of being faithful--turning his marriage into some sort of sham arrangement. Going to spas and clubs and sleeping with men on the side--it was awful, really. Harry would have never done that to Ginny…

Except just a second ago, he was _thinking_ about it. God, what was wrong with him? He lifted his tea to his lips, and frowned feeling how cold it had gotten. Lazily he drew out his wand and cast a warming charm. He set the wand on the table and was just about to pick up his cup again, and he had to do a double take.

Harry _knew_ that wand. He dreamed about that wand countless times, clutched in his fingers as he killed Voldemort once and for all. But what was truly strange was that Harry hadn’t seen this wand in years. He had locked it away for safekeeping. So how was it here? Could it really have been with Malfoy all this time? How did he even get it from Harry in the first place? 

Bolting out of his chair, Harry climbed the stairs to the attic. He coughed, waving his arms around to try and settle the dust around him. He moved boxes upon boxes, just trying to find it. Off to the far corner of the room he spotted his old school trunk. Flinging it open, he threw old textbooks over his shoulder. Then, he saw the black velvet cloth peeking around his cauldron and some Chocolate Frog cards. He pulled it out, but to his dismay the pouch was empty. 

Absentmindedly he rubbed the cloth with his thumb, thinking. So Malfoy had gotten his wand back, after all. Or rather, he had it back till Harry took it away again. He wondered how Malfoy got the wand back in the first place. Did he break into Harry’s house? Or did Harry just…return it? He honestly hadn’t the faintest idea, but somehow he felt this bit of information was significant in someway. 

Harry sighed, his mind starting to throb from all of the thoughts rushing through his mind. Then he remembered Astoria in the hospital and her request. Could Harry really stop this (whatever it was) with Malfoy? Perhaps if he wasn’t being so bloody mysterious and clearly up to something. But Harry knew Malfoy--and that was just never an option for the man. Up-to-something was practically his middle name, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

He’d just make sure that he’d keep all skin contact to a minimum. That couldn’t be so hard, could it?


	10. Someone Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's thoughts are drifting to Malfoy more and more. The thoughts sprang up at the worst possible times throughout his day--at work when he caught sight of light blonde hair flash past his office door, at the Leaky when a bloke walked in wearing tight blue jeans, and then, worst of all, when Ginny reached for him under the covers while he was half asleep.

The next day Harry had received news from Astoria that Malfoy was recovering nicely and should be released from the hospital by the end of the week. Harry had really wanted to visit him, but Astoria requested that he not. Despite this, he couldn’t seem to stay away. Which was why he was standing in front of the information desk at St. Mungo’s on a Tuesday evening. “May I help you?” asked a small witch who didn’t even bother to move her eyes away from a book she had propped open on her desk.

“Er yes. I came to see Mr. Malfoy. What room is he in?” 

She looked up at the mention of Malfoy’s name. Her eyes widened. “Mr--Mr. Potter sir. I’m sorry but…” Frowning slightly she leaned closer, “But I can’t tell you that. I’ve been given specific instructions to prevent you from visiting him. You are not on the wife’s list of approved visitors. I’m sorry.” 

“Right…of course,” Harry said without emotion. Then he turned sharply on his heel and went home. 

As Head Auror, Harry had a little bit of pull in the Wizarding World. He could easily produce the documents to be granted access to Malfoy if he was under a formal investigation. Still, he felt if he were to take such measures it would only create a stronger rift between their families. Harry was starting to really enjoy the friendship between Astoria and himself. He ignored the moment where she had come on to him because that was just ridiculous. Sure, she was an attractive woman but Harry didn’t feel anything of the sort for her. Her husband on the other hand…

 _Stop it,_ he thought. Her husband was in the hospital because of him. He really didn’t need to be thinking such things. However, those thoughts were becoming harder and harder to ignore. The thoughts sprang up at the worst possible times throughout his day--at work when he caught sight of light blonde hair flash past his office door, at the Leaky when a bloke walked in wearing tight blue jeans, and then, worst of all, when Ginny reached for him under the covers while he was half asleep. 

She was stroking him, and try as he might, Harry was having a hard time getting aroused. It wasn’t as if it didn’t feel good, because it did. It just…wasn’t as exciting as it once was. After a few minutes, Harry had hoped she would have given up. She didn’t though, and in the next moment she buried herself under the covers and was taking him in her mouth. Harry gasped, clenching his eyes tight automatically.

Then those thoughts came again--those horribly incredible thoughts. It was Malfoy opening his mouth wide and pulling him in, sucking him in such a frenzy. Harry was achingly hard in seconds. The pace quickened and Harry could practically see him now, pale face flushed, beautiful hair in such a perfect mess, and he was naked too. Harry had seen those curves of his thighs and arse thanks to those wonderful jeans--it didn’t take much for him to picture the man completely out of them. He was deliciously muscular, strong, and he was taking Harry with so much force it left him completely breathless.

It didn’t take long. With the image of Malfoy stroking his own cock, Harry came abruptly and forcefully. He grunted, his breaths coming out uneasy. He was in such a daze he didn’t even notice when Ginny got up and out of the bed. The only thing that brought him back to reality was the slam of the bathroom door. It shut with such force a picture hanging on the wall fell down and crashed. 

Harry bolted out of the bed, his sex haze vanishing instantly. He desperately tried to follow her, knowing something horrible had just happened. She had spelled the door shut. “I can’t believe this!” he heard her roar on the other side. “I thought it was all some stupid rumor. But apparently not, huh? You’re fucking someone else! I can’t believe this!” 

“Ginny--no!” He wailed helplessly. “No, I’m not! Whatever it is you’ve heard, it’s…well, they are all rumors. Please…please open the door.” 

“BULLSHIT!” she bellowed. Harry could hear a crash as if she threw something against the wall in anger. “I saw the pictures in the article. You took her out to Paris. Fuck, you’ve never even taken ME to Paris. But then again, I’m not Astoria MALFOY.” She spat the last name out like it was a disease of some sort.

“What?” asked Harry, completely dumbfounded. “Ginny, no. It’s not…it’s not like that. We are friends. That’s it. We went to Paris to get robes for Al and Scorpius. You can even ask her if you want. It’s nothing, Gin. Please…believe me.” 

Harry was pressed to the door desperately trying to reach her. He didn’t try to spell the door open because clearly Ginny wanted the wall between them. There was silence for a moment. Then he felt the door open slowly and Harry stood back into the bedroom. In the doorway Ginny stood with her hair in a tangled mess, her eyes burning in fury and…hurt, betrayal. Eventually she managed to look Harry right in the eyes and said, “Then why did you say her name when you came? You moaned out _Malfoy._ You were thinking of her instead of me.” 

His stomach felt as if it fell to the floor. Suddenly Harry wanted more than anything to disappear right at this moment. He took a step nervously back, muttering “Er…well.” He honestly didn’t know what to say.

Tears started streaming down her face and she let out a choking sound. “Right, well. I’m going to…” She trailed off her thoughts, turning from Harry and she went into the closet. She was rummaging around for clothes and packing silently. 

“Ginny…wait.” Harry said without thinking. She turned to him expectantly, her eyes glassed over. “Wait, that’s not right. I don’t like her like that. She might have wanted to at some point, but trust me, I don’t want her.” 

Sighing, she threw a shirt into a suitcase that was propped open on the floor. “Trust you? I can’t trust anything you say to me right now. If you don’t want her why would you say her name while I was sucking you off, huh? Just stop LYING to me.” 

“Fine, you want the truth? Well here it is, Gin. I wasn’t thinking of her. I was thinking of _Draco_ Malfoy!” Harry huffed. A second later and his eyes widened in alarm and he slapped his hand over his mouth in shock. He couldn’t believe he just said that.

She couldn’t believe it either. Ginny had stopped packing and her mouth was gaped open, with a scarf held loosely in her hands. The fabric fell a second later, but she hadn’t even noticed. Finally finding her voice she asked in disbelief, “You…you _what_?” 

If Harry wanted to disappear before, it was nothing like how he wanted to now. His heart rammed into his chest as if trying to burst out. “I…” 

“So let me get this straight. You thought about Malfoy. You wanted Malfoy doing that. Harry…you’re a sick fuck. That’s DISGUSTING. I just…I just can’t believe this.” She was flinging clothes even more rapidly into the trunk, not even paying attention to what she was grabbing. He absentmindedly saw her snow boots fly in, followed by a bikini. 

“I’m sorry you find it so fucking _disgusting,_ ” Harry bit back defensively. “But he’s erased my memories, Gin. I think him and I…we might have had a history of some sort. I just don’t know. I’m trying to figure it all out.” 

“Oh right, of course. Sure, you had a history. Remember him stepping on your face on the train 6th year? Or how he let all the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? The stupid badges he made in 4th year…the curse he put on Katie. I mean, I could go on, Harry…” She had spelled her trunk to float in the air and it was starting to head down the stairs to the Floo. She followed it, not even turning back to Harry.

Sighing in aggravation he said, “Look, I know all that. What I don’t know is what happened the year after the war. You don’t even know what happened to me! No one does. Doesn’t that bother you? It sure as fuck bothers me!”

Stepping into the fireplace, she turned back to look at Harry. In a calm, controlled voice she said, “You always wanted us to move on--to remember Fred, Lupin, everyone, but then to continue on living our lives. You taught us to look into the future and live for today. Perhaps you should start taking your own advice.” She pinched some dust and flung it on the grate. Sadly she added, “I need some time…I‘ll be at mom's.” She disappeared a second later.

He slumped into the couch by the fireplace, staring at the Floo for several minutes. Harry couldn’t believe what had just happened and he thought if he waited long enough, she’d come back. Hours later and still no sign of her, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

At first it was calm. The sound was very faint, off in the distance. It had a pattern to it. Waves. Then the sun broke across the horizon and Harry looked on. Sunlight reflected off the gentle waves of the ocean, sparkling. The sound grew in intensity until all Harry could hear was the rush of water meeting with the shoreline.

His feet were getting wet, and Harry looked down. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. He wasn’t wearing anything, actually. But somehow that thought didn’t seem to bother Harry. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him, and fear of being discovered didn’t even seem to faze him. 

Eyes traveling the beach, he noticed there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was just him, the sand, and the water. He took in a deep breath and relished the smell of the ocean. It was so calming out here and he didn’t want to leave any time soon. Without thinking, he took a few small steps further into the water. 

What followed next happened so quickly, Harry was taken completely off guard. The waves rushed on, picking up in intensity. No longer were they calm, but rolling over with such force he started to panic. The peaks of the waves were climbing higher and higher up into the sky and suddenly Harry was completely in the water, swimming frantically. The roar of the waves overwhelming his senses, and then…

A voice was calling out for him. He heard his name echo across the surface of the water. It sounded like Ginny, trying to pull him back. But then the water was closing in on him, the waves were too tall. Harry struggled in the water, trying desperately to stay afloat. But it was no use. The tallest wave of them all pushed Harry under. Ginny’s voice was lost.

He woke up in a pool of his own sweat. His clothes were drenched and Harry knew it had nothing to do with the fire still flickering in the fireplace nearby. Pulling himself up to his feet, he saw the early morning sun peeking in through the kitchen windows. He went over and made himself a cup of tea, staring at the calendar spelled to the side of the fridge.

Today was Wednesday. Slytherin’s game versus Hufflepuff. He was planning on going--but that was before he put Malfoy in the hospital. Surely Scorpius heard what had happened. No doubt the boy probably hated him now. Not a new thing concerning Malfoys, but Harry had hoped they would have formed a friendship of sorts. 

He was planning on going to the game before everything happened. Harry had wished he’d have run into Malfoy and they could have watched the game together, muttering petty insults to each other. Then he would have invited the man back to Hogsmeade with him and perhaps they could mull over his past with a pint. Of course, that would never happen in a million years but Harry had hoped. He had also hoped of other things to happen, preferably with a tempting pair of blue jeans, but that fantasy was bordering on insanity.

Either way, apologizing to Scorpius was what drove Harry forward. He found himself standing within the Quidditch stand a few hours later, watching the game play out. Albus and Lily were at his side, cheering with the other students (mostly Slytherin) that were in the stand with them. James was in a neighboring stand with a bunch of Ravenclaws, his arm wrapped around Roxanne. He didn’t seem all that thrilled to see Harry, especially when their group hollered as Slytherin made another goal. 

Despite Scorpius’s opinion that they were going to steamroll the other team, the game lasted for over an hour. The Snitch was not even spotted but the one time. But once it was seen that was all it took. Scorpius darted in its direction a second later and with admiring grace he caught it. Both teams hadn’t even realized the game was now over till the school started milling out of the stands. Dumbfounded, both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff captains looked at each other and asked, “Who won? Who caught the snitch?” 

Scorpius flashed them a smirk and held up the Snitch proudly in his hands. He turned his broom down and flew to the ground. Albus had already ran down the stand and met him at the bottom of the pitch. Harry watched as Scorpius flung his arms around his son. The smile they shared radiated between them and Harry’s heart swelled. And then Albus wrapped his arms around Scorpius’s neck and kissed him--right in front of the whole school. Harry gaped and he looked around the pitch frantically, suddenly nervous for them.

The remaining students and teachers weren’t even fazed. Next to him Lily was standing from her seat and grabbing her school bag, not even bothered. In fact, there were only a few people that were watching the display of affection down below. A group of Hufflepuff girls were sighing happily and he could hear their collective “Awww!” from across the field. Another group, this one Slytherin, was shouting playfully at them to get a room. And then there was Neville Longbottom. His eyes met Harry’s and his grin cracked in amusement. 

Looking back down, Scorpius had pulled Al in closer, running his fingers through his black locks. They kissed each other like they were the only ones around, completely caught up in their embrace. Harry’s heart raced on, watching them. They looked so happy and carefree. 

And then he couldn’t help it. His mind wandered to Malfoy--where the man must be right now. How they could never have anything like what their sons shared. Harry felt a churning feeling in the pit of his stomach, watching as the boys finally broke their kiss. Scorpius gave Albus the biggest smile Harry had ever seen. Albus returned the smile, and Harry’s heart ached. He and Malfoy would never feel anything like that. It would never be that easy for them. The feeling in his stomach was growing in intensity and then it all made sense to him. That feeling was envy, pure and simple. 

He didn’t even know how he ended up in front of them a second later. But there they stood, Scorpius’s arm wrapped around Al’s waist. Al was slightly shorter than Scorpius, much in the same way that Malfoy always seemed to be a few inches taller than Harry. It was uncanny, really, how similar they looked. But yet how very different their fates were compared to their fathers.

“Congratulations,” Harry offered to Scorpius. 

The young Malfoy nodded, and his lips twitched at the corners. He pulled Al closer to him and whispered something in his ear. Albus looked at Harry before he nodded as well. Then he watched as Al gave Scorpius a quick kiss on the cheek and started to walk away. As soon as his son was out of ear shot he turned back to Harry. “I know what you did,” Scorpius said seriously. 

“It’s not what you think.” Harry muttered quickly. “I didn’t mean--”

“Just what exactly are your feelings for my father?” barked out Scorpius as he crossed his arms across his chest. His grey eyes clouded over and he glared. Never had the boy looked so much like Malfoy and Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

“Um, well…”

“Are you deaf, Mr. Potter? Did you hear what I just said?” There was a scowl on his face now, and Harry couldn’t blame him, really. His father was in the hospital because of him. But when he thought about apologizing to the boy, this was not how it played out in his mind. 

Even though he was taken slightly off guard by such a direct question, Harry still croaked out, “I well, I don’t know. I don’t hate him, if that’s what you are wondering. It wasn’t my intention to hurt him.” 

Scorpius seemed to accept the answer. But then he asked something even more probing. “Do you fancy him?” 

Balking, Harry took a nervous step back. His palms started to sweat and he tugged on his shirt. It took him longer than usual to reply, Scorpius watching him the whole time with intense interest. “Er…Is that really your business to ask?” he said feebly. Once the words left his mouth, Harry hated them. God, what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he answer a simple yes or no question? Why was it so hard to admit that yes Harry fancied the fuck out of Malfoy. And he was terrified of it, absolutely terrified.

“It is my business since you landed him in the fucking hospital! Now answer me!” Scorpius bit back. His growl carried across the stadium, echoing through the empty stands. The sound crashed through Harry like a wave of guilt. 

“Well, I…yes. I think I do,” Harry muttered, barely above a whisper.

“I knew it.”

Then Harry couldn’t help the words that he spouted off next. They came freely and without much thought. “Well it bloody well doesn’t matter. I can’t even touch him without hurting him.”

Their eyes met and Scorpius’s glare had turned soft. His lips formed into a small frown. It was rather strange, actually. Harry had never seen such an emotion on his father before, but Scorpius was clearly not Draco. Scorpius could show a variety of emotions and didn’t seem to carry the burdens Draco Malfoy had. Before Harry could think more about it, Scorpius said slowly, “There was another that burned him. A few years ago. Before I went to Hogwarts.” 

“What happened? Who was it?” Harry asked swiftly, taking a step closer.

“His name was Isaac. Father never formally introduced us, but then again that wasn’t strange. He never did let me meet his partners.” He paused, as if waiting for Harry to interrupt him. When that didn’t happen he continued, “I’m not stupid, Harry. I know he’s just as gay as I am. And I know Isaac was special to him. Other men never lasted long. But him, however, he was allowed to come back--again and again. But then, things started happening.”

“What sort of things?”

Sighing sadly, Scorpius looked past Harry and his eyes focused on something in the distance. “At first it was very mild--a pink tinge to his skin. Then his lips were chapped, cracked. Then red, swelling. The blisters started forming, almost as if he was sun burnt. But mother and I knew that wasn’t possible. It was the middle of winter. There was no way.”

“And then we started noticing that he always broke out after Isaac visited. It wasn’t long till father really got hurt.” Scorpius gulped, letting out a small sigh. “Isaac never came back after that,” he finished sadly. 

“But Scorpius…I’ve never been with him like that. We’ve never--” 

“He looked like you, y’know,” Scorpius interrupted. “Black hair…bright eyes.”

“Scorpius…” Harry spoke quietly, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Can’t you see it? Isn‘t it obvious?” Scorpius asked him. “It’s always been you. Stupid Potter and his fanclub in the bloody paper, Saint Potter this, Scarhead that. And I’ve seen the way he looks at me and Al. He looks at us the way you did today, up in that stand.” 

Envy. Harry had envied what they had. And now he knew Malfoy had felt the same. He could barely think straight from the thought, and words had failed him. Thankfully Scorpius continued the conversation, “My mother will see to it that you don’t see him again. Don’t listen to her. Do what you want--what my father wants.” 

“I’d kill him. I almost killed him already, and we hadn’t even done anything yet. I surely would kill him if I did what I want to do.”

Scorpius gave him a small grin. “You’re bloody Harry Potter. I’m sure you can find a way around it. If anyone could put an end to all that, it’d be you.” 

Harry’s lips twitched upwards at the corners. For some reason he wanted more than anything to believe the young Malfoy. If this was something he could overcome, Draco Malfoy would be the reward. And he must have gone mad because he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. 

“Are you going to visit him? At St. Mungo’s?”

“I already tried. I’m on a list and can’t get in to see him.”

Smirking, Scorpius cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. “You‘re really going to let them tell you what to do?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, they have a reason to be concerned. I could threaten his health.”

“Aren’t you Head Auror? Couldn’t you flash a badge or something?”

“Just because I could do that doesn’t mean I should. Your mother wouldn’t appreciate that. And I’d have to document it at work, and that would raise questions as well. It’s probably just best if I just wait to see him once he’s out.”

“It’s going to be even harder talking to him once he’s out. You need to talk to him now, while he doesn’t have a chance to run away.” 

“Well do you have any ideas?” Harry asked, his eyes scanning the empty Quidditch field. They had been the only ones out here for the past ten minutes now. He wondered if Albus was starting to worry.

A sly grin slid across the blonde’s face. “Don’t you have an invisibility cloak?”

Frowning, Harry shook his head. It had been several years since he had seen his cloak. Somehow he had the sneaking suspicion that James took it out of the home office. He never bothered to confront him about it, simply because a part of him was thrilled about the idea of the cloak being put to use at Hogwarts again. “No, I don’t have it anymore,” Harry replied calmly.

Scorpius’s grin widened. “Would you like it back?” 

His head snapped up to the boy’s. “You know where it is?” 

He nodded, withdrawing his wand. “ _Accio_ Harry Potter’s cloak!” Scorpius bellowed, whisking his wand through the air. Across the field a duffle bag was sitting against the wall of the locker rooms. A silvery garment that shimmered in the sun busted forth, flying into his hands. He held it up smugly for Harry to see.

“How did you…?”

Scorpius snorted and only answered with, “Slytherin.” Harry grinned as the boy handed him over his cloak. “Right, so now it’s your turn for something cunning. Go in there undetected and catch him by surprise. Don’t get caught. Make Slytherin proud.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. Shaking his head in disbelief he folded the cloak under his arm and asked Scorpius, “Why are you doing this?” 

Grey eyes met green. He held Harry’s gaze for a strong second then said, “He deserves this. He’s been suffering for too long. The war is over, and yet he still feels trapped. Set him free, Harry. Make him happy.” Then he broke the eye contact, looking over Harry’s shoulder. His face broke out into a large grin and Harry turned to see Albus making his way back to them. “Well, that’s my cue. See ya, Harry.” He gave him a quick wink and met up with Al. The two of them went over to the bag by the locker room and then disappeared inside. 

Shaking his head in the direction of the locker rooms, Harry took off also. At home he struggled with finding the right thing to wear to meet up with Malfoy. For some reason, he really wanted to make a good impression. He wanted to try to look good, but at the same time look like he hadn’t tried at all. Clothes after clothes were discarded on the bed, each one looking worse than the last. And just when he had about given up, he saw it. 

It was the most perfect sweater. It was made of a beautiful cashmere that felt so silky smooth to the touch. Naturally, it was dark green. Harry hadn’t even known where he got such a wonderful shirt, but he knew this was what he was going to wear. Slipping it on, it fit him snugly across the chest, but not too tight. Stepping over to the mirror, Harry gaped at himself. The color made his eyes shine. And although Harry was never confident in his outward appearance he knew he looked _good_ right now. 

Pleased at last, he ran a hand through his hair to try to tame it, to no avail. Then, he was off. Once inside the hospital, he found the bathroom and that was where he donned on the cloak. He managed to slip out the doors, tracing behind another visitor. 

At the information desk, he peaked over the receptionist to find out any more clues as to where Draco was staying. Her log was open on the wrong list of names though, and she sat lazily with her elbow resting on the book. He made a small frustrated grumble, and the lady must have heard him because she jerked in her seat, whipping her head in his direction.

Harry’s heart lodged in his throat and he stepped away, bolting around the corner. At the end of this hall was a directory with arrows in all sorts of directions followed by numbers indicating what particular floor. His eyes traveled all along the sign…emergency room, psychiatric ward, muggle treatment center, maternity, potion’s lab. There were over 100 different destinations and he was getting dizzy glancing over everything. Then his eyes landed on burn center and he wanted to jump for joy. Fourth floor, left. 

Once at the correct ward, Harry was relieved to notice most of the rooms were open and empty. In fact there were only three rooms that were closed and two of which had the name of the patient clearly displayed. Neither name was Malfoy. And then it only made sense to Harry that of course Astoria would not want people to know Malfoy was staying here. He approached the last closed door at the end of the hall. 

Pressing his ear to the door, he listened for any sounds. He could hear the faint beep of a monitor, but that was it. Harry looked around the hall one last time, and knowing he was alone he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

Sure enough, Malfoy was there. He was lying peacefully in the bed covered with white linens, his face the only thing visible beneath the covers. Harry shut the door quietly and approached him. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, nerves unsettling him. This was it. Now was his chance.

But what would Harry say? What would he do? And panic started to arise and all Harry could do was stand there, looking down at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. How could Harry have done this to him? What was he going to do now? How could he make things right?

“Mmmm…Harry,” Malfoy moaned out in his sleep. And Harry lost all rational thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was named from the song by Adele. Seriously I cried writing this chapter and listening to that song. XD  
> Anyway, thanks to all that have reviewed/kudo-ed. I also have two one-shots I've posted on here if you are looking for something else to read. They aren't related to this story but they are Drarry so maybe you'll like it. :)


	11. Be My Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks with Malfoy at the hospital.

His first name was never uttered from those lips without the familiar ‘Potter’ attached to it. Hearing it now, unguarded, was too much for Harry. Then that moan he made, _Merlin_ that moan. He had never heard anything more tantalizing. His fantasies of the other man never included how good he’d actually sound, but Harry knew now it would be something that’d never leave his mind. 

Another moan escaped his lips, this one louder with a slight whine. He watched as Malfoy moved in his sleep, his chest rising and falling quickly. The covers slipped, exposing a bare thigh. His night gown had hiked up. Harry gulped as his heart thudded on. He knew what he was doing was bordering on wrong, but somehow he couldn’t seem to look away.

Shifting in his sleep again, Malfoy’s hair was sprawled across his pillow in a way Harry had imagined he would look. He wanted so much to run his hands through that soft hair, and before he knew it, he was reaching. His hand was just about to make contact, then Malfoy gasped, his eyes flying open. Harry jerked back quickly, tripping over the bedside table. 

Automatically, Malfoy bolted up in the bed looking around frantically. “Is…is someone there?”

Harry silently cursed his clumsiness beneath the cloak. Part of him had wanted to watch Malfoy more and now he had lost his opportunity. He had turned in the bed and draped his legs off the side, his face scrunching up and searching the darkness. “I know you’re here. I heard you,” Malfoy said. “I’ll call the nurse if you don’t show yourself,” he threatened a second later.

Sighing, Harry tugged the cloak off. Malfoy’s eyes flashed in his direction, widening. “Please don’t, Malfoy. I only want to talk to you,” he whispered.

“I already told you that I didn’t erase your memories. What else do you want?” Malfoy glared at him intensely before continuing, “You have no proof I did it. And if you want to bring me in, I’ll have you talk to my lawyer first.” He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Harry took a step closer, Malfoy responded by turning and backing up into the bed. His back was now pressed against the headboard, eying Harry carefully. Suddenly feeling very guilty Harry croaked out, “Listen, I owe you an apology. I never intended--”

“Oh stop with the pity party. I don’t need to hear it,” Malfoy interrupted.

“Right…well, ok.” Harry frowned, looking down at his shoes. He was having a hard time finding the next words he wanted to say. The silence filled the room, thick and heavy. The only sound Harry was even aware of was the pounding of his heart as he managed to whisper, “Malfoy…do you really think it’s all in my head? Did we…were we…”

Malfoy’s breath hitched and he looked away from Harry, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Harry had, however. Grey eyes looked past him at a picture on the wall and he mumbled out, “Not in your wildest dreams, Potter.” 

His evasion drew up the courage Harry needed to say what he needed to. “They’re not dreams,” he argued. “I wake up not remembering them because of the memory charm. The charm is blocking the images from my mind. I can catch bits and pieces, but I need to know what happened. Please tell me,” Harry pleaded. 

“Potter…just…stop.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet, and Harry watched as his Adam’s apple twitched, his jaw clenched tight.

“We kissed…I just know we did. And I…well, I’m sure I liked it. In fact,” Harry paused, taking the last step to the bed. His legs pressed against the bed frame and he leaned over Malfoy. From deep within he summoned up that foolish Gryffindor courage and confessed, “I think I’d really like to do it again.”

Malfoy inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. It took him several seconds to respond, as if he was counting silently to remain calm. Then his eyes fluttered open again and met Harry’s gaze. In barely above a whisper he said, “You don’t mean that.”

Harry’s eyes searched his, trying to find what was hidden beneath the surface. “I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. First it was the dreams and now it’s during the day. I want to know what happened between us. I feel like something isn’t quite right…that something was missing. Why won’t you tell me?”

Malfoy bit his lip, holding back a noise deep in his throat. Harry’s eyes flickered, watching those lips in wonder. If only he could close the distance between them. If only he could kiss away the worries that Malfoy so clearly was overcome with. Then he released his lips from his teeth and said softly, “Potter, I can’t.”

“What? Why not?” Harry pouted, and his eyes moved from Malfoy’s mouth down to his neck. The burn that was there was nothing more than a pink mark now. “Does it have to do with the burns?”

“No.” He shook his head, a strand of white blonde falling down to his cheek. Harry stared at the lock of hair in fascination. Malfoy’s eyes, on the other hand, were downcast and staring at the bed sheets and refusing to meet Harry’s. 

He tried a different approach, more direct and Gryffindor in nature. “Are you afraid I’ll reject you? That I’ll say you’re sick and I don’t like you that way? That I’m not gay?” Frowning, Harry asked again, “Malfoy, why won’t you tell me? What are you so afraid of?” 

His grey eyes snapped up to meet Harry’s and without missing a beat he confirmed, “You did all that before, and you’ll do it again. You left. You’d do it again if I give in.” 

Harry’s heart swelled, threatening to burst forth from his chest. “Malfoy…I wouldn’t…”

“Just…stop, ok?” Malfoy sighed and Harry felt his breath brush against his face. “You said that before. You promised me you’d never leave. But you did…and then, a week later and I find out in the paper that you were engaged. It was as if nothing ever happened. What we had…was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing though, was it?” Harry cut in quickly. “I don’t remember much of the dreams but I remember how I feel. We shared something. We could share something now. We could be--”

“No, we couldn’t,” he argued just as fast. “We lost that opportunity a long time ago. We’re married now, we have our own children, our own lives. Plus you can’t even bloody touch me without hurting me. How about you just take it for what it is, all right? It’s a sign, Potter. We are doomed to fail.”

“Scorpius doesn’t seem to think that. He thinks I might have a chance to figure this all out. If I can find a way to break this curse without hurting you…”

“I don’t appreciate you talking to my son about such things,” Malfoy said crossly. “Leave him out of this. It is not his business and he is but a child.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “Well that _child_ of yours just kissed my son in front of the whole bloody school. He gave me the idea to come see you. I think he understands more about what’s going on than what you realize.” He paused and then moved from leaning over Malfoy and sat at the foot of the bed, the other man’s feet a small distance away. “He just wants you happy. He thinks I could help with that.” A smile reached his lips before it faltered with his next words: “So, about this curse…”

“It’s not a curse. It’s a _commitment._ ” Malfoy sighed sadly, slumping in his bed. “You want to know why you can’t touch me? I’m married to Astoria. We are bonded together in a very traditional pure blood marriage contract. If either of us is unfaithful to the other the bond flares up and punishes the offender.”

Harry felt lightheaded all of a sudden. “What?” he asked, dubiously. He had never heard of anything more absurd.

Rolling his eyes Malfoy said, “Of course you’d have no knowledge of medieval pure blood customs. The contract, or _foedus_ , is put into effect by the head of house once their heir reaches adulthood. Heirs are matched with another pure blood family that is equal in wealth and status, usually before the child is even born. Astoria was my match right from the very beginning, and I her’s.”

Before Harry could respond to that, Malfoy continued: “Most pureblood families have arranged marriages but the ritual of the _matrimonium foedus_ encantation is outdated at best. Families have not openly practiced bonded magic such as that in over 200 years. The tradition died as attitudes in marriage changed and divorce and premarital sex became more common and accepted.”

“But if it’s not as common now, then why you?” Harry asked curiously.

“I’m gay, Potter. It’s the only way my father felt he could control me into doing his bidding. And it bloody well worked.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and his eyes became distant, as if he was thinking back to another time. “I wasn’t going to follow through and have a child, so he forced me. It’s really rather simple.” 

“It’s really fucked up,” Harry growled. Malfoy’s eyes met his in surprise. “How could he do that to you? Couldn’t you fight back? It was just a marriage bond…you didn’t have to have sex with her, did you?” After the words left Harry’s mouth, he worried he was prying too much. But really, Harry honestly wanted to know as much about this situation as he could. The more he knew, the better he could figure out how to solve this whole problem.

“That’s the thing,” Malfoy chuckled, maniacally. “While under the _foedus_ I could not intentionally hurt the head of house. If I so much as tried to go against his wishes, the curse would backfire and harm myself. The only way I could seek vengeance for what he did was to produce an heir of my own. Once I had my own heir I would take his place as head of house and his protection would disappear.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully Harry eyed him carefully, “So you’re head of the Malfoy house now? Couldn’t you just wave your hands and dissolve the marriage contract?” 

Snorting, Malfoy shook his head. “Not that simple. It’s a vow _till death do us part_. That is the only way the bond will go away. Either I die, or she. And Potter, yes, I’d like to be free from this. But, I love Astoria dearly. I could never kill her for my own selfish gain.” 

“Right…of course,” Harry resigned. Could that really be the only way to get rid of the bond? Were they really as doomed as Malfoy thought? Just when Harry was starting to come to terms with the fact that he liked the bloke, he couldn’t even do anything about it. He desperately wanted to reach over for Malfoy and push away any worries he might have. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Then another thought popped into Harry’s mind. Something just didn’t make sense. Perhaps if he could figure out why some men triggered it and others didn’t, maybe Harry could find out a way to prevent himself from hurting Malfoy. “Wait, you’re unfaithful all the time. Astoria said that you have your men, she has hers. So, why is it now flaring up? We haven’t even done anything and I put you in here…” he trailed off sadly.

A small groan was heard from his side of the bed before Malfoy ran a hand through his rumpled blonde hair. “Potter…” His voice held an edge of uncertainty that intrigued Harry and without thinking he was moving in closer to hear his next words. “You are a threat to the bond. Other men that I have been with were not. Casual sex is just animalistic urges and the bond recognizes that. But the moment there is something more, the bond’s defenses go up.”

Harry’s head was swimming. His pulse was racing from the words _something more_ and Harry knew exactly what he meant by that. Even though he couldn’t remember the history of that mystery year, he still recalled that feeling of absolute happiness once he woke up. Those feelings were intense and if Harry really did share such an emotional connection with the other man, then yes, Malfoy’s marriage would feel threatened. 

“You should really get going,” Malfoy mumbled. Harry looked up from his unconscious staring at the bed sheets to gaze at him. “The nurse does her rounds in a few minutes.”

Sullenly Harry said, “Ok.” He couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment coursing through him. Thinking back to before he got here, Harry had hoped they would have kissed and made up by now. Things were never easy, were they? He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here all night talking to the elusive man before him. He had been trying to find out more and more, and just when he was getting answers he had to leave? Perhaps he could just put on the cloak while the nurse was here.

It must have been a few minutes that Harry didn’t make a move because Malfoy said, “Potter, did you hear what I just said?”

He exhaled loudly then nodded. “Can I see you again?” Harry blurted out boldly.

His grey eyes flickered into an unknown emotion that Harry hadn’t seen before. But before he could wonder about it, Malfoy’s gaze fell and a frown was on his lips. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Harry was about to argue to the point of shamelessly begging, but thankfully the other man added, “But I guess I can’t stop you if you come here again. And knowing you, you’ll probably show up anyway even if I tell you not to.”

Harry’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile, “You’re right.” Malfoy snorted in amusement and Harry felt his stomach flutter. He wondered what it would sound like to hear an actual laugh from the other man. He recalled his condescending sneers directed at Harry in school. What would a carefree chuckle sound like that wasn’t the result of Harry’s misfortune? He wanted to find out.

They both heard the nurse enter the room next door and Harry’s heart thumped. Malfoy met his eyes anxiously and Harry jumped off the bed. He walked over to retrieve his cloak and held it loosely in his hands. Turning back to Malfoy, he grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry stalled in putting on the cloak as Malfoy called out, “Hey Potter?” 

Tilting his head curiously he let out a small, “Yes?”

The other man eyed Harry critically for a minute, almost as if he was debating silently in his head. He looked him up and down, his eyes resting for a longer moment on his chest and then up to his face. A second went by before a small smile broke his face. Harry’s heart lodged somewhere in his throat, then he heard him say barely above a whisper, “Nice sweater.”

A flush started to creep up Harry’s cheeks without his consent. “You like it?” he asked a little too hopefully. God, perhaps getting out of here was a good idea. He was starting to act like a love struck school girl.

“Of course,” Malfoy said, his smile not fading. “After all, I did give it to you.”

Harry’s stomach did the funny fluttering thing again. This sweater was suddenly his most favorite article of clothing. He’d make sure he’d never lose it the way he lost Draco. But he’d get him back. He had to. “I wish I could remember that,” he said downcast.

“I wish for a lot of things,” Malfoy said honestly, his gaze looking out the window. The moonlight had soaked into the room and bathed the man in an ethereal glow. He looked absolutely stunning and Harry ached for him. Without thinking, he took the few steps back to the bed and leaned over Malfoy again.

Malfoy’s gaze darted up to meet his eyes once more. His eyes searched Harry’s eagerly as Harry moved even closer. He stood over him for what seemed like an eternity, their lips but a mere inch away from the other. The distance was so small--but for both, it seemed like miles apart. “I wish I could kiss you,” whispered Harry, his breath caressing Malfoy’s face and lips. 

“God, Harry,” gasped out Malfoy. Harry’s eyes were fixed on those luscious lips, so it took him a second to see the stray tear that trailed down the man’s cheek. “You’ll…you’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

It took all of Harry’s willpower to keep himself from climbing into the bed with Malfoy right at that very second and kiss the life out of him. But then that particular literal thought is what kept Harry rooted to where he was, hovering just barely along the precious border between them. “I’m…going to fix this,” he muttered. “I’m not going to lose you again,” he promised.

The rattling of a hospital cart outside their door broke the moment. Harry gave Malfoy a quick look of yearning before he donned on the cloak and vanished from sight. Malfoy wiped the stray tear from his face, his hand shaking. The nurse walked in a minute later and approached him, new bandages held in her nimble hands. “Are you all right, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked curiously.

“Yes,” Malfoy responded morosely. 

She gestured for him to strip and Malfoy took off the hospital gown. In any other time Harry would have loved the opportunity to spy on Malfoy and his state of undress. Somehow this didn’t feel right though, and Harry averted his gaze just as he caught a glimpse of his linen-covered chest. He could hear her taking off his bandages and wrapping new ones around him. “Are you sure? Your heart rate is pretty erratic right now…”

“Huh?” Malfoy asked. “Oh, right. No, I just woke from a dream,” he explained.

“A nightmare?” the nurse prodded.

“No,” Harry could hear the smile in his voice. “It was a fantasy.”

 

That night Harry had a fantasy of his own. He was back in that hospital room with Draco and doing what Harry so desperately wanted to do earlier. Kissing fervently, Draco moaned. The incredible sound filled Harry’s ears and drove him forward. He lifted the hospital gown off Draco’s head. 

With his pale chest exposed, Harry looked on. Instead of the bandages though, there was the familiar slashes of the _Sectusempra_ spell. He felt cold, as if someone just dunked him in a bath of ice water. The scars were scabbed and still red, as if just recently sealed up. Harry unconsciously traced his fingers over the sensitive area. Draco whimpered from the touch.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, bending down to kiss the wounds. His lips brushed his chest gently and warmth seemed to spread from the contact. Draco made another moan, louder this time, as if wordlessly urging Harry on. Harry continued the kisses, moving down from his collar bone to his nipple, ribs, then lingering where it ended at his hip. He ran his hands up Draco’s chest, licking the delectable skin. 

His fingers could no longer feel the scratches. Harry backed away, looking down. The slashes across his chest were fading, healing. There was still a faint lash that Harry had missed with his lips. He bent down and kissed it and watched in wonder as the scar vanished, leaving Draco’s skin as flawless as ever. The man sighed happily underneath him. Satisfied at his work, Harry grinned triumphantly.

“Please, Harry,” whispered Draco. Harry read his mind and leaned forward, meeting his lips again. They melted into the kiss, pressing closer to each other. Bare chest against bare chest, Harry could feel Draco’s heart matching the beats to his own. And as connected as they were, it wasn’t enough. For a brief few horrible seconds, he had to lift himself off the other man in order to shuck out of his trousers. Hurriedly, he pulled his pants down and did the same with Draco’s own. 

Their body’s met eagerly again. In a hot and hungry kiss, Harry felt his world spinning--both literally and figuratively. He opened his eyes, withdrawing from Draco’s swollen lips, and looked around at their new surroundings. They were on the beach--the same spot Harry had seen earlier. Draco’s back was in the sand, his calves laying against the damp bank. The waves of the ocean tickled both of their feet gently. 

Harry was on top of him, settled in between Draco’s legs. Unlike the calm of the waves, their next movements were rushed as Harry pushed against Draco fervently. The sound of the sea carried on, but louder was the beautiful song of Draco’s moans of pure pleasure, as Harry ground his hips into him. He was vaguely aware of the smell of the salty breeze however Draco’s own scent was even more overpowering. He smelled of cedar, leather, and the familiar aroma was intoxicating. Harry kissed him again, plunging his tongue through Draco’s parted lips. Never had he tasted anything more incredible, smelled something so sweetly, nor felt more on fire. Draco ignited each one of Harry’s senses and he was losing control very quickly.

The heat between them was rising, their lengths throbbed as they brushed. Draco was meeting Harry’s hips now, the slap of their skin drowning out the sound of waves meeting the shoreline. Harry had to break the kiss, his breath coming out ragged. Draco was panting underneath him, his hot air lingering with Harry’s. “God, Harry…I’m going to…” he gasped out, helplessly.

Those breathless words urged Harry on. Quickening his pace, he grinded harder into the other man and after one, two, three shameless thrusts they both came, calling out for the other. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, pulling him closer as they rode out the remaining sensations. Their breathing slowed, humming to the beat of the ocean waves. Harry sighed happily, smiling against Draco’s neck. And just when he was completely relaxed in Draco’s embrace, Harry woke up.

He groaned against the mattress, feeling his release drying against his stomach and the bed sheets. Reaching for his wand on the bedside table, he waved a quick cleaning charm. He slipped on his glasses and looked at the wand in his hand and smiled. Draco’s wand. He had set the wand right next to Harry’s own last night before bed, and he had cast the spell not even noticing the difference. 

It was oddly intimate. Witches and wizards used wands that weren’t theirs all the time (Harry should know, from all the cases he had to oversee on stolen wands). Wands were fickle however, and they always seemed to have a preference to their rightful owner. Sure, you could claim the wand for yourself--but rarely wands performed to the caliber of their original master. Wands chose the wizard, after all.

Draco’s wand responded the same way Harry’s own had. Perhaps after killing Voldemort, the wand would forever be imprinted on Harry. Or maybe the connection ran deeper. Maybe the wand chose Harry much in the same way the wand’s owner had. He grinned at the notion, running his fingers fondly over the hawthorn wood.

“HARRY!” someone shouted from downstairs. He flew up and out of bed frantically, slipping some quick clothes on. Racing down the stairs he saw Hermione standing in front of the Floo in the living room. Her eyes met his in distress. “Oh, Harry. Please tell me what’s going on!” She wailed, walking over to meet Harry halfway.

“What?” Harry asked, confused. He hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about. There were lots of things going on, and he honestly didn’t know where to begin or what she had in mind.

“Mum told us Ginny came back to the Burrow yesterday. She’s holed herself up in her old bedroom and is an absolute wreck. She said there’d been a fight. Harry, are you all right? What’s going on?”

The guilt had somehow left Harry’s mind the minute he started thinking about Malfoy yesterday. But now the feeling was back again, only intensified to a whole other degree. God, he was a horrible husband--and really, just a horrible person in general. How could he do this to her?

“Er…well, yeah. We had a fight. I told her…well…” The words failed from his lips. It was too hard to say and frankly he couldn’t believe he even told Ginny what he had. 

“Does she know about the memories?” she asked, concerned. “Harry, that was something that happened years ago. You can’t control the dreams or your wandering mind while you sleep. Malfoy’s in the past…surely she’ll come around,” Hermione offered, hoping to cheer him up. 

Her words cut deeper into him. This was awful. “No, Hermione. I’m afraid that’s not it…”

Brown eyes widened in shock. “Harry! Did you…cheat on her?” she asked in disbelief.

“No!” Harry said all too quickly. But then he thought further and said, “Er, well not really. It’s complicated.”

Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow. “Go on,” she said sternly. 

Gulping down his nerves, he rubbed a hand through his black locks. “Right…well. I may have called her Malfoy during sex…”

She gaped at him, taking a step back. The seconds ticked by in stunned silence. Harry frowned, ashamed, and looked down at his bare feet. He heard her slump on the couch, and a moment later she said, “Wow.” 

“I know,” Harry said feebly, rooted to where he stood in the living room. He braced for the rant that was sure to follow from her.

Hermione didn’t say anything for awhile though. Seconds turned to minutes as she mulled over what was just said. At long last, she stood from the couch and made her way into the kitchen. Harry could hear her fumbling around in the cabinets. She came back into the living room, brandishing a bottle of wine. Motioning for Harry to join her, they both sat on the couch. She uncorked the bottle and said, “Right. Tell me from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

Harry sighed in relief as she waved her wand and two glasses floated onto the coffee table, and for once, Harry didn’t hold back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta couldn't read this chapter so I still hope it's up to par. I still wanted to post it either yesterday or today, so here it is! Hope you all liked it. Been trying to keep up with this but school and work has tried to get in the way. Should have next chapter up the following week. :)


	12. Touches You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione points out that Harry has it bad. His second visit to the hospital proved that to be true.

His voice was raw from all of the talking. He had told Hermione everything: all of the dreams (including the blissful one he just woke from), Scorpius giving him his cloak back, Malfoy’s past relationship with Isaac, and the conversation they had regarding the _foedus._ And surprisingly when he was all said and done he had just realized she never once interrupted him. She just sat next to him listening intently and nodding in encouragement every time Harry looked up to make sure she was still there. 

At last he turned to her and croaked out, “Well…what do you think?” 

Her brown eyes twinkled over the glass of wine she was drinking. She set her cup down on the coffee table and gave Harry a warm knowing smile. “You love him, don’t you?” 

“What?” Harry asked in alarm, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. She giggled, shaking her head and that sound did nothing to help the nerves that he suddenly started to feel. Love? How could he love Malfoy? Perhaps he had in the past but things were different now, things were complicated. 

She reached over for the bottle and poured the remaining contents into Harry’s empty glass. Harry took a larger gulp than usual, suddenly feeling the need to calm himself in whatever way he could. “Oh Harry, it’s so painfully obvious. But if you want to do the men-have-no-feelings thing, than go right ahead. I know you’re in denial and it’s ok.” 

“Hermione!” Harry yelped. “Please. I honestly don’t know, ok? I can’t even kiss him. How can you fall in love with someone you can’t even touch? What if when I get the chance it’ll be awful?” 

She let out a small snort and said matter-of-factly, “Oh it won’t. Hell even in school, the tension between you two was so intense. No one could get under your skin the way he did. And then you started following him around and getting obsessed. Part of me secretly wondered if there was more there, especially the time you were considering ditching Quidditch to go follow him.” She paused and picked up her glass again. “I think this has been going on longer than both of you even realize and clearly it’s deeply rooted within you for you to be able to bring up those memories.” 

Sighing, Harry let it be for now. He wasn’t going to have an argument over whether he had deeply rooted feelings for Malfoy. That was something he just didn’t want to talk about. So he changed the subject by asking, “So what should I do? About the marriage commitment?” 

“Yours or his?” And Harry winced, not even once thinking about Ginny. Hermione didn’t miss his facial expression and added, “Harry, if you are seriously going to try and break the _foedus_ you really need to consider what this is going to mean for your own marriage. You can’t keep going on like this. You are going to have to make a decision.” 

He knew this of course. He just didn’t want to think about that for now. All he wanted to do was ask her for advice on the marriage bond that Malfoy was having to endure. But of course she directed the conversation to an even more unpleasant topic. Yes, Hermione had a point and she was absolutely right. Harry just didn’t want to hear her lecture about Ginny. 

Sure enough, she went on anyway. “Harry, I think it’s really nice that you are trying to figure out what’s going on between you and Malfoy. It sounds like the two of you really could be something. But, Ginny is my sister. You’re my best friend. This is really putting me in an awkward position.” 

He took a sip of what was left of his drink before asking, “What do you think I should do? I do love her. I love the kids. I love the life we had. It’s just…well.” Harry frowned, pondering for a second. Ginny was always there for him when he got back. He left her to go hunt Horcruxes. He left her when he found Malfoy. She was there when he came back. He could go back to her now. She’d probably take him back. The thought was sickeningly comforting. 

“You’re right,” Harry muttered. Hermione’s eyes widened, obviously not expecting those words. “You’re right,” he repeated. “I can’t keep going on like this. This isn’t fair to her. She deserves much more than what I have been giving her.” 

“Harry…” 

“She’s always taken me back. I’ve betrayed her trust. I may not have cheated on her on a physical level. But my mind has wandered. She’s been nothing but loyal, a great mother. And I know I could go back to her, ask for forgiveness, and after awhile she’d give me that.” 

He frowned deeply, setting his empty glass back on the table. “The thing is, I don’t think I want to go back. I…well, I want to see where this thing with Malfoy leads. I’ve never felt anything quite like this before. It’s a scary feeling, but I want to see this through. I want to free him from this--as crazy as that may sound.” 

“So what are you going to do?” asked Hermione. 

His gaze met hers. “I’ll talk to Ginny, if she’ll even listen to me. If she doesn’t want to see me, I’ll understand. Maybe you could talk to her and console her? I know it’s me that fucked everything up. Tell her I’m an absolute prick and don’t deserve her.” Harry laughed bitterly at his last statement, standing up from the couch and taking both their glasses into the kitchen. 

“You are either an absolute moron or you have it _bad_ ,” Hermione called after him, smirking. She heard him fumble in the kitchen from her words and her smile grew. Even though she hurt for Ginny and what she’d be having to go through, she was slightly relieved for Harry’s revelation. It had been far too long since she had seen him genuinely happy. 

For her, Harry and Ginny were simply going through the motions of marriage. In the beginning they seemed just as crazy for each other, but as the years passed Hermione noticed things were not quite the same. It was all little things, really. Harry stopped taking her coat off for her when they’d stop by to visit, Ginny stopped making his cup of tea for him (because, she argued, she never seemed to get it just right anymore), and ‘we’ seemed to be cropping up less and less in their shared conversations with Hermione. It was now Ginny is going to do this, Harry is going to do that. 

They were living two different lives with two totally different careers. Ginny would be gone for weeks at a time, traveling the country either while she played for the Harpies or when she was writing about them. Harry was traveling just as much, trailing after criminals in seedy parts of the world. Then when he got Head Auror his trips were less frequent and he was tied to a desk more than anything. He stayed home more. And even with Ginny being gone for sometimes a month at a time, Harry never once raised any concern that Hermione could see. It was almost as if he hadn’t even known that he should miss his wife. Perhaps he just didn’t. 

“Maybe it’s a little bit of both,” Harry said sheepishly, walking back into the living room. It took Hermione a second to remember what they were even talking about, but once she figured it out she gave him a small smile.

“Well, you’d have to be a moron to just dump your marriage of over 15 years for _Malfoy_ ,” she snorted, amused. 

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. Thinking for a minute he said, “Well, to be fair, I did dump Malfoy for her first. Then there’s the whole ‘I don’t even remember what happened’ bit. And I gotta tell you, Hermione, if those dreams are any indication about what we’ve had…” He trailed off. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it pretty bad,” he confessed feebly. 

“Right!” Hermione clapped, startling Harry. She sniggered and went on, “So, we need a plan. Can’t touch, can’t do anything to threaten the bond. Can’t kill Astoria. Perhaps we should just tackle the source of all this trouble in the first place, hmm?” 

“What? Lucius Malfoy?” She simply nodded and Harry sighed in exasperation. “Hermione, he did this to punish him. I don’t think I can just march down there and ask him to remove the thing. You remember that he’s not generally a nice person, right? I mean, he did practically try to inadvertently kill Gin second year.”

“Perhaps you could offer him something in return?” Hermione asked, quirking a brow. 

Harry gasped at the implication. “You want me to _pardon_ him?” 

Shrugging he heard her say, “Well, if it works, it works.” 

“I can’t do that. That’d go against all sorts of ethics! Hermione! I can’t believe you just said that! Wherever you took my friend, I‘d really like her back right about now, please!” He looked over at her in disbelief and then she was laughing, loudly, clutching her side. 

“Sorry,” she gasped out, wiping a tear from her eye. “I just wanted to see how far you’d take this. Glad to see you haven’t thrown out all your morals just yet.” 

Rolling his eyes he muttered, “I think you’ve had enough to drink, lightweight.” 

Giggling, she stood up from the couch and stretched. “Oh perhaps. But I’m not silly enough to get toasted on a work day. I’m off today--got to take Rose to the dentist and get her braces taken off.” 

Then it hit Harry. Today was Thursday. Technically, he still had to work today. His eyes darted to the clock over the mantel and saw that it was already past 10. “Shit,” he exclaimed, standing up and heading for the stairs. “I better get going.” 

“Oh relax, Harry!” shouted Hermione. Harry paused in his climb up the stairs and heard her say from below, “Ron’s got it. He can handle it, really.” 

He turned, took the few steps back down and looked over at her. “What? You sure? I haven’t even told him I was planning on taking off…” 

“Oh, come off it. The minute we heard what happened between you and Gin we kind of figured you needed some time.” Harry opened his mouth to argue but she waved him off, “Seriously, relax. I already talked with Jennifer and she said she’ll clue him in on the meeting you have today with Apparation and Misuse.”

"Wow, thanks Hermione." He paused before adding, "You're a great friend." 

She beamed, her perfect teeth flashing. "Oh, I know." She started to make her way back to the kitchen now. "So, now that bottle is finished, how about another? Do you have any champagne? We could make mimosas. Those may be more appropriate for this time of day, y'know." 

Laughing, he showed her to where he kept the wine rack. And with each glass he emptied with her, the better he felt about the whole situation. Sure, his marriage was a wreck. But at least he had great friends, a great job, and great kids. He also had this thing with Malfoy and Harry was more determined than ever to make sure he could have him too. 

 

That night when he returned to the hospital Malfoy's room was already occupied with other visitors. Harry shrunk back in the corner of the room, hidden under the cloak. Jake and Seamus were there—Seamus at the nearby chair, Jake sitting on the bed with Malfoy. 

"Did they say how long they are going to keep you?" asked Seamus. 

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Just the end of the week. If I'm fully healed, I may be able to be released tomorrow." 

"Oh, if you get out tomorrow do you wanna go to Broomsticks? Karaoke night! And you know Jeremy will be there..." trailed off Jake, looking wistful. Harry leaned in, suddenly curious as to where this conversation was going. 

"Ugh fuck Jeremy," groaned Malfoy, covering his face in his hands. 

"What? You mean you already have? Is he not good or something?" Jake looked at him in disbelief, "I mean, we've all seen how his trousers fit him. Hung like a centaur. Did he not know how to handle his wand?" 

Seamus cackled and Malfoy groaned further in irritation. "No, I've not fucked him," he muttered through his hands. Harry couldn't explain the feeling of relief from hearing those words. Somehow, Harry didn't like the idea of this Jeremy guy at all. Even thinking about it made Harry feel something in the pit of his stomach turn.

"Well let's go then! Just a few weeks ago you were eying him like the new Nimbus model. And I'm sure he's not forgotten you, of course." The twisting in his stomach increased in intensity and Harry felt his heart thudding in his chest. 

Sighing, Malfoy slid his hands down his face. "Jake, I know you're trying to cheer me up but it's not needed. I'll just be happy to get out of this room and go home. You guys can go the bar without me. You'll have fun." 

Seamus and Jake snapped their heads in his direction and Jake gasped. "What? Go to the bar without you? You always go with us, and you always get the hottest guy there. Then you leave us behind to go fuck your newest conquest. Did you hit your head or something? What the hell happened to you?" 

Now Harry felt sick. And he knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn't like him and Malfoy had an established relationship or anything. But somehow he couldn't stop the feeling of jealousy. He was jealous of all these men—hell even Astoria. They could all be with him and yet Harry couldn't. For some horrible unknown reason, it seemed like the world was meant to fuck with him. 

"I guess nearly dying changes your perspective on some things," Malfoy said. 

"You never did tell us what exactly happened," Seamus pondered, looking over at his friend curiously. "You said you had some magical burns? Potions accident?" 

"Yeah, something like that," Malfoy lied, not meeting his eyes. Both Seamus and Jake watched him carefully for a moment, as if not entirely buying it. Neither of them said anything though, and quickly changed the topic of conversation. 

Harry couldn't pay much attention to what else they were saying. Vaguely he could hear Jake mentioning something about a girl Seamus was interested in. But Harry's mind was elsewhere—on Malfoy. So he hadn't told his friends what had happened. Did they even know about the _foedus_? Harry highly doubted it, from the reaction he just had. 

So that left only him and Malfoy's family that was aware of the bond. And well, the medical staff of course. For some reason Harry wasn't really sure what to think of that. On the one hand, he was strangely pleased that he knew something even Malfoy's closest friends didn't know. On the other, he was slightly upset that Malfoy hadn't told them. Did Malfoy not have anyone to talk to about this with? Was Harry the only one who really had any idea just how much this whole thing sucked? 

Seamus and Jake left shortly after with Jake giving him a quick endearing kiss on the cheek as they parted ways. Harry glowered at him from underneath the cloak. Granted it was clearly a friendly gesture and nothing that hinted at anything else. Still Harry was slightly bitter about it even occurring in the first place. 

Not a minute after their departure, Harry swiftly removed the cloak. Malfoy jumped, completely startled from his reveal. 

"God, Potter! Don't DO that!" He gasped, clutching his chest in alarm. 

"Sorry," Harry smiled, sitting down at his spot at the foot of the bed. Now within a closer range, Harry couldn't help his traveling eyes. He gave Malfoy an appreciative once over, drinking in his appearance. He noticed the mark on his neck was completely vanished now. "You look better," he said without thinking. 

"And you look just as helpless as ever," Malfoy retorted. His tone of voice didn't match the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It was almost as if he was trying not to smile. It made Harry grin wider. "Honestly, do you own any clothes that aren't a decade old?" 

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No, not really. I wear my work clothes more often than not. The only new clothes I get every year is a Weasley sweater for Christmas. Sometimes I get socks..." 

"Merlin, Potter! Are you that unfortunate?" A fine pale blonde eyebrow rose. "I'm sure I could get Jake to help you out with a new wardrobe if you'd like." 

"God, no!" wailed Harry. "I'd rather not look like the cabana boy cleaning out a pool in Miami, thanks." 

He wrinkled his nose at Harry. "Ugh, no. Jake wouldn't make you look like a servant. Though with your current attire, I'm sure that's a look you are pretty used to." His eyes met Harry's and if he hadn't seen the flicker of playfulness in those grey eyes Harry might have been insulted. 

"Cabana boys aren't servants, really," Harry chuckled. 

"If they are some sort of muggle, I wouldn't really know Potter." The Malfoy of twenty years ago might have bit that retort out. The Malfoy sitting here with Harry had no malice in his voice though. Harry liked this change and their banter back and forth. 

"I noticed you didn't tell your friends about what I did to you," Harry said, changing the subject. "They don't know about the marriage bond, do they?" 

Malfoy sighed, shaking his head. "No, of course not. They think we are married for our own mutual benefits. Astoria has financial security and I have my political reputation. The Malfoy name has increased in popularity due to our marriage and we are no longer feared like we once were." 

"I could tell them the truth, but really I'd prefer not to. I don't need their pity. I just want to be treated like a normal bloke for a change. Jake and Seamus are surprisingly the closest friends I've ever had." His eyes bore a serious expression as he told Harry, "Don't tell them I said that though." 

Harry let out a small laugh before he replied, "Of course not, Malfoy. I'll just use it for blackmail later." 

Malfoy's trademark smirk was in place upon his lips. "How very Slytherin of you," he said, his eyes twinkling in mischief. Harry felt his heart thud harder in his chest and his mouth went dry. Who knew Malfoy's smirk of all things could make Harry feel like this? 

"Right," Harry croaked out. "So, I've been thinking about how to get rid of the bond. Have you considered talking to your father about this? He put it on you, perhaps he could take it off. I mean, you've produced an heir now. Surely that should be enough..." 

The smirk was gone in a flash. Malfoy's eyes darkened and he glowered at Harry. "Don't you dare bring my father into all this. The man is a bastard and he did this to us. He loves the mess he created and there's no way in hell he'd change his mind." 

"I could offer him an incentive. Maybe even change his sentencing..." 

Malfoy growled out, "To hell with that! He is right where he belongs! The fucker erased your memory, Potter. He gets nothing!" He was seething now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes burned through Harry under the intensity. 

"Wait, he erased my memory?" Then it all seemed to add up to Harry. "He knew about us, didn't he?" he asked in alarm. "He cast the memory charm to get me away from you. Then he put up the bond to reinforce it." If Harry wasn't already sitting, he would have felt his knees weaken under his weight. "Wow...that's...insane." 

"Understatement of the century," Malfoy drawled out. "That's why he's right where he belongs. He's under tight supervision so he can't do any more evil plotting anymore. And he's under the care of muggles. It's fitting, really." 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking in the new information. A huge part of him was infuriated that his life could be so fucked by Lucius Malfoy. To think Harry was actually considering lessening his sentence. Now, with his fists clenched at his sides, all he could see was red. Harry could re-open his case with this new information. He could try him for more crimes and more than likely put him in Azkaban. Perhaps he could even override the Wizard ethical laws that forbade the Kiss. 

Malfoy must have sensed his fury because in the next second Harry felt a burning touch on his thigh. Harry's eyes darted to his leg quickly, and sure enough Malfoy was running his fingers over his trousers. "It's ok," he whispered, leaning closer to Harry. His pale thumb trailed the inseam of his pants and Harry lost all rational thought.

The touch felt like a bee sting, but Harry couldn't care. He was on autopilot, leaning closer into Malfoy. Their lips were at the same distance as yesterday, each of them poised carefully—close enough to feel their breaths mingling, but still not close enough.  
He felt his hand leave his thigh and Harry frowned. Malfoy withdrew it up to his own face and Harry looked on, noticing the pink tinge to his fingertips. Then he brought his fingers into his mouth and he was sucking on them. Harry's breath caught in his throat, watching the pink of his tongue darting out to caress his skin. 

This was torture. Malfoy drew in his index finger completely and let out a soft moan. Harry felt himself turn to mush, and it was really rather pathetic. He never felt harder in his whole life, simply by Malfoy sucking his own finger. Hermione was right. He had it bad. 

With a small pop, the finger came out of his parted lips. His grey eyes lingered on Harry's and he gave him a wicked grin. The prick knew exactly what he was doing and clearly teasing Harry was something he rather enjoyed. This came as no surprise to Harry. They always seemed to tease each other in the past. But this type of teasing was much more thrilling...and dangerous. And Merlin, if Malfoy kept this up Harry'd have no choice but to lose all sense of his declining control. Pinning the man to the bed seemed like a fantastic idea right about now, curse or no curse. 

"Tell me," whispered Malfoy over his lips. "Tell me just what exactly you want to do to me right now." 

It took Harry a few minutes to form a response because Malfoy was working the buttons of his nightshirt. He watched, transfixed, as more of the pale skin was revealed to Harry. He looked just like Harry dreamed he would and it was so achingly familiar. 

"I'd...very much like to kiss you right now," Harry supplied. He bit on his lip before muttering, "But I don't want to hurt you, Draco." 

Malfoy let out pleasant hum, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders. "Say it again. Say my name again." 

He leaned forward the remaining inch that separated them and whispered "Draco," against his lips. And then their lips were brushing, hesitantly at first. A spark of magic flared between them and Harry gasped in shock. But Malfoy didn't hold back. With Harry's mouth gaped open, he plunged forward kissing Harry hungrily. Harry felt the breath completely knock out of him, but couldn't manage much else. 

Their tongues writhed against each other, caressing and exploring. The tingle on his lips was increasing and the stinging feeling was getting to be too much. Harry loved the feeling of Malfoy's lips against his, and wanted very much to not break the kiss. But at the same time the burning was beginning to be overwhelming. Reluctantly, they both broke apart at the same time. 

His green eyes looked down to Malfoy's lips. They were puckered, red, and starting to chap. Harry sighed, looking on in hunger. Even though kissing Malfoy was something he had been dreaming about pretty regularly, it was nothing like the real thing. It was like a thirst that could never be quenched and Harry selfishly wanted more and more. 

"Harry," he said breathlessly. "We have to be careful." 

He smiled over at him before playfully saying, "Well, I wasn't the one that deepened the kiss. You were pretty forward." 

Malfoy laughed and Harry felt his heart flutter at the sound. It was almost as beautiful a noise as his name uttered from those swollen lips. "True," he murmured. "I don't think I could have helped it. I didn't think I'd ever get to kiss you again." 

"Oh we're certainly going to do it again," Harry reassured him. He was pleased to see a small smile on the other man's lips from those words. His smile faltered as Harry added sadly, "But you're right. We have to be more careful. I can't hurt you, nor do I want to. You're about to be released. I don't want to put you back in here." 

Sighing, Malfoy stretched his arms over his head. Harry's eyes glazed over Malfoy's exposed chest and stomach. For all his years married to Ginny, Harry was surprised with how the flat panes of Malfoy's chest was so appealing to him. Malfoy was entirely masculine in every sense of the word, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. 

"I have an idea," Malfoy said, his eyes lighting up. 

"Oh?" Harry asked, his eyes still stuck shamelessly on Malfoy's hardened nipples. It must have been a little chilly in the room, especially without a shirt on... 

He chuckled and Harry snapped his gaze back up to meet his grey eyes. Those eyes flashed a challenge at him, something that brought Harry back to all those years at Hogwarts. "You can look, Potter," he suggested. A flash of movement drew his eyes away. Malfoy hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He started to tug them off and Harry felt his breath leave him. "Just don't touch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was delayed. Took a bit longer to finally have this finished the way I wanted it. Hopefully school calms down a bit too. I'd much rather write and read Drarry than study for stupid tests. Haha. Anyway, chapter title is named from the song by Mika.


	13. It Was Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry realizes just how much he needs to get rid of this bond. Can Harry really look but not touch? Can Draco?

He felt as if he had been dreaming again. Surely there was no other reason as to how he ended up here, sitting on the bed and watching as Malf—er, Draco took off his clothes in front of him. In his dreams and fantasies it was always Draco (not Malfoy) with him. They had went beyond the last-name formalities of the past and were on a first name basis. Perhaps getting naked with someone did that. Harry wasn't really sure about it and lost the train of thought as the other man removed his pants, leaving himself completely bare to Harry's gaze. 

Harry couldn't help it and his eyes darted south. He could feel Draco's knowing smirk, but he didn't care. He was going to look on whether it was considered rude or not. He had been spending the most recent time obsessing over the man and he was certainly going to take on this opportunity. 

Draco looked very similar to how Harry imagined he would from his dreams. He had slightly defined muscles that were soft around the edges. He was neither athletically built nor slender, but rather a combination of the two. It suited him very well and Harry was definitely transfixed. Harry had never seen a man more beautiful—hell, no other person compared. 

Green eyes trailed the path of Draco's hip bone and further down. A patch of pale blonde hair below Draco's stomach caught his sight, so faint it was hardly noticeable. But much like the rest of the man, Harry had noticed. And nestled underneath was Draco's thick cock, already damp and leaking. Harry swallowed hard. 

"Lock the door," Draco commanded. 

He fumbled for his wand in his pocket and Harry quickly waved it silently in the door's direction. His gaze never left Draco's body, but both men listened to the click of the locking charm in place. The next sound Harry heard was Draco's sigh of relief before he rested his head back down upon the pillow. His pale hands ran down his exposed chest and Harry saw the familiar scars beneath. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said automatically. 

Draco's eyes had been closed, but he opened them to look over at Harry and meet his gaze. "I know," he said slowly. "You had already apologized years ago." 

"What else have I done years ago?" Harry asked, only half paying attention to what he was saying. Draco was sliding his hands further down, so any sort of concentration was proving to be incredibly difficult. 

The other man thought for a moment before he grinned wickedly at Harry. Harry felt his own cock twitch at the look Draco gave him. His grey eyes shone with such a strong level of determination and...want. He couldn't even remember anyone ever looking at him the way Draco had in that moment. It was as if he was the feast and Draco was the man starved, having been hungry for far too long. Draco's hand came up between their gaze in that moment, and he snapped his fingers. 

A rush of air hit Harry on all sides and he gasped, quickly looking down. His clothes were vanished and there he was in all his glory under Draco's smug look. "Bloody hell!" wailed Harry, suddenly embarrassed for his unexpected nakedness. Reflexively he moved a hand to cover his own erection which only caused Draco to roll his eyes at him. 

"Oh, please," Draco snorted. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Honestly, Potter there is absolutely no reason to be shy now." 

His face was heating up and Harry couldn't control the flush that scattered his cheeks and neck. His past Hogwarts self would have been appalled. But he couldn't help it. Draco always caused him to react in ways he could hardly control. 

"This may be nothing new to you, Draco. But this is sort of like the first time for me. I can't remember what we did before, all I know is what's happening now," Harry explained, his face growing hotter every second that passed. 

Harry was rewarded with a crooked smile from Draco. "I forgot how cute you look when you're shy," he chuckled. Harry hated how he flushed darker, uncontrollably. "But really, even in your blank state you have done this before, haven't you?" And with that, Draco started to stroke himself slowly without any shame. 

Words were starting to fail Harry. "Uhh....well." He watched on in fascination as Draco picked up the pace, twisting his hand with each tug as his fingers wrapped around the head of his length. Harry's own erection was starting to throb painfully under the hand covering himself. If this was an image his past self indulged in, Harry wondered how he could ever forget something so _fucking hot._

"Mmm, Harry," Draco moaned out. His breaths were coming out ragged while Harry was trying to figure out how to breathe entirely. "Touch yourself," Harry heard him say from across the bed. "I want to see you." 

That must have been the last push to Harry's will, because in the next moment he was stroking himself. Hesitantly at first, because really, even though he had wanked himself plenty of times in the past this was nothing like that. He never had an audience before and he was pretty wrecked with nerves. What if he wasn't up to Draco's expectations? He was twenty years older, after all. What if Draco didn't like his older self nearly as much as the younger Harry? 

"Fuck, if you keep on going like that I'm not going to last long," groaned out Draco. 

Any doubts Harry had were gone. With the new found confidence, he ran his hand along his erection with more enthusiasm. The pleasure was building and his eyes fell closed automatically. He could still hear Draco panting near him and it was easy to imagine it was him stroking Harry. God, what would those slender pale fingers feel like wrapped around his cock? Harry desperately wanted to find out. 

"Look at me," Draco gasped, his voice suddenly closer to Harry. His green eyes snapped open and saw that Draco was sitting on his knees and no longer laying down on his side of the bed. It was as if he needed to be closer to Harry, and Harry responded by sitting up onto his knees as well. They knelt just a few inches from each other, their positions and movements mirrored. 

His hand was keeping pace with Harry's and the smoldering look he gave him was just about enough to do Harry in. A few more strokes and it was too much. With his eyes locked onto Draco's he felt himself lose control and he moaned out breathless, "Fuck!"

Draco came a second later grunting loudly, and Harry was shocked to feel his release shoot out and coat Harry's stomach and fingers. He looked between them in amazement, Harry logging away the memory of both of them covered in each other's come. It was something Harry wanted to see happen again, in various positions. To think he'd gone twenty years without this. He had to have this again, preferably with Draco pressed up against him so Harry could feel him from his head down to his toes. 

"Wow," Draco said, dazed. He gave his softening prick one last slow stroke, gathering the rest of his release in his palm. He brought his hand back up to his mouth and sucked on those beautiful fingers again. Swirling his finger around his lips, he cleaned off his and Harry's come from his own hand. Harry was speechless. 

"Mmm..." Draco moaned out. "God, I forgot how fucking good you taste." 

Yeah, Harry needed to find a way to get rid of this curse. If Draco kept doing and saying the things he was, Harry was about to maul him. "Merlin, Draco...you need to stop that," he gasped out, trying to avert his gaze. But how could he look away? Draco always seemed to get his attention and sure enough those green eyes landed back on the other man a second later. 

He was smirking again. And fuck for Harry and his weakness, because he was getting hard again. This was madness—Harry needed to get out of here. He was going to do something that he would regret. 

Draco wasn't listening. Playing with Harry was his favorite past time and this was just too good for him to pass it up. "You look so good like that. I wish I could lick every inch of you clean," he muttered under his breath. He waited a second before teasingly adding, "If only you could remember just how good I am at sucking your cock...you loved it." 

The added image of Draco nestled between his legs and taking him in his mouth was what took Harry over the edge. He snapped, knocking the other man back onto the bed. He wrenched Draco's hands above his head and held them firmly there by his wrists. Harry hovered over him, his legs spread on either side of Draco. He was careful to keep the body contact to a minimum even as his skin screamed for Draco in anyway he could have him. Green eyes burned into grey, fingers burned wrists. "I told you to stop," growled out Harry.

"Did you ever think that perhaps I want you like this? I don't want to stop and I don't think you do either," Draco gasped out. 

Then Harry saw Draco wince, the heat rising under his grasp. Harry let go of his wrists quickly, not wanting to further any damage. He backed away, sitting at the foot of the bed and shaking. "Fuck, Draco. Do you have a deathwish or something?"

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry could see Draco rubbing his wrists, sitting against the headboard. He snorted before telling Harry, "Perhaps. Ex-Death Eater wanting to blow the Head Auror. If the wizarding world got wind of that, I'm sure someone would want my blood." 

Harry exhaled deeply and looked around for his vanished clothes. They were folded neatly on top of the chair beside the bed. He got up and fished his wand out of his trousers and waved himself clean with a quick charm. Without a word from Draco he pointed the wand at him as well. With his hand now clean, Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "We have to get rid of this bond," he mumbled. 

"Hiring a hitman then?" Draco asked. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he said, "I can give you Astoria's weekly schedule if you'd like." 

"Fuck, Draco. That's messed up." 

Smiling darkly he replied with, "Slytherin." Like father, like son. And before Harry could say another word Draco went on: "Who knows, with my ex-Death Eater connections I could probably find someone to do the job quickly for a reasonable price." 

"We're not killing your wife!" Harry exclaimed, raising his arms to the ceiling. "And are you mad? Head Auror—hello? Please tell me you don't really have those sorts of connections. I really don't want to have to arrest you." 

Smirking that smirk that Harry was getting to be quite fond of, Draco murmured, "Oh, I think you do want to arrest me. I think you want to take me away in handcuffs and have your wicked way with me in some holding cell. Do they have torture chambers at headquarters? Is that what you're into, Potter?" 

Harry coughed. Now that was another sort of fantasy he was going to be haunted with later. Clearing his throat he repeated, "We aren't killing her. We just have to find another way. Perhaps Hermione and I can do some research and come up with something."

"Please tell me you didn't tell her," Draco sighed, his eyes looking up at nothing in particular. 

"I did," Harry confessed. Draco groaned and he continued, "She's a great friend and if anyone can figure this out, it's her." 

"What makes you think she'll want to help me in the first place? I'm sure her memories of me have not been the best..." He trailed off. 

Harry blushed and said awkwardly, "Uh well, she kind of knows. About us." 

"Us?" Draco asked in complete shock. It took him a split second to compose himself, finding the correct words. "There is no 'us.' We're both married with no way of being able to even become an 'us.' We might have been together at some point, but it's not going to happen." 

Instead of arguing with him, which Harry knew was going to get him nowhere, Harry said, "Draco...can I ask you something?" 

"What?" He huffed slightly. 

"You said we might have been together in the past. Just what exactly...were we to each other?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. His insides twisted, his palms started to sweat. He really wanted to hear what Draco had to say.

Instead of answering the question Draco asked, "What do you think, Potter? What do you think we were?" 

"Geez, can you just admit it already?" Harry huffed this time. He knew Draco was avoiding the answer and with the way Harry's heart was about give out, he couldn't handle much more of this back and forth. 

"Admit what? We were fucking each other for close to a year. That's what it was, nothing more. We had our fun. Clearly there is some remaining sexual chemistry, but in time I'm sure that'll fade too." Draco didn't meet his eyes with the words he spoke. Harry knew what that meant. 

"I know you too well to believe that bullshit for a second," Harry seethed. "And I also know more than you think I do. You said the bond only flares up when it's threatened. Your friends can touch you, casual fucks can too. I can barely keep my fingers on you for over a a second and you get a burn. There is something more here and I want to hear you admit it. Tell me what we were." 

"You're not going to believe me," Draco laughed bitterly, shaking his head. 

"Try me," Harry crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at him intently. 

"Right, ok. You want to know?" Harry nodded and Draco sighed. "Ok, we were engaged. We were going to get married. We hadn't had all the details planned out because we kept arguing over where we were going to hold the ceremony. I wanted to elope, you wanted to at least bring your friends along." He paused before running a shaking hand through his white blonde hair. "We were just so stupid back then. Practically still kids. I don't think we realized what we were doing." 

Harry sat down, the wind knocked out of him. He stared absentmindedly at the wall, trying to take it all in. The story of his past was just getting crazier and crazier. If Draco came to him before the dreams and told him all this, Harry would have laughed for days. But something deep inside Harry knew this had to be the truth. It explained so many things and answered all the questions. His past self was going to marry this man. 

His past self must have been insane. Or really stupid. Or both. Yes, that was it. He was really stupid, insane. And he was both of those things with a past Malfoy. Harry closed his eyes as his mind whirled. Then, there it was. The dream he had not long ago, the one where he woke up feeling utterly and completely happy. It was a dream he had with Draco. 

"We were happy together," Harry croaked out, his eyes still closed. It wasn't a question. He knew it to be the truth. 

"Yes," Draco said simply. Then Harry heard the bed creak and he turned to see Draco standing, slipping his night shirt over his head. He bent down to pull his pajama bottoms up. Harry frowned, not really ready for Draco to get dressed. His body was something very pleasing to look at and Harry wanted to keep looking. 

"You should probably get going." "Can I stay tonight?" They both talked at the same time, and their eyes met once more, widening. 

"Oh ok," Harry frowned, standing up and out of his chair. He walked to where the cloak was puddled at the floor. 

As he was bending down to retrieve the silvery fabric Harry heard, "Harry, wait." 

Turning back to Draco he saw him take a few hesitant steps closer. He felt Draco's breath ghost over his face as his grey eyes searched green. His teeth caught his bottom lip and Merlin, he wanted to kiss Draco again. Harry was leaning in of his own accord, so close. The bond was completely out of his mind and the only thing that mattered was the man before him. 

"Tomorrow," Draco cut through his thoughts. Harry's eyes snapped open just as he was about to make contact. "Come back to the manor, tomorrow."

"Huh? Ok," Harry agreed, dazed. With Draco so close, Harry could agree to anything right now—just so long as he could kiss those delicious lips one last time. 

As if reading his mind, Draco leaned in quickly and offered him a chaste kiss. It lasted but a second, but even in that time they both felt the spark of the bond and its intensity. Draco bolted back, his hand darting to his mouth. Harry watched in horror as a spot where Draco's lips had been cracked had burst open. Drops of blood were starting to run down his chin and fingers. 

"Fuck," they both said, together. Then Draco was walking back to the bedside table. He pulled a drawer open with his other hand and withdrew a small jar. He fumbled with trying to open it, not wanting to remove the pressure from his lips. 

"Here, let me," Harry said, walking over and taking the jar from him. He was careful to avoid brushing his fingers against Draco's. Opening the jar, he held it out for him. Draco dipped his fingers inside and coated his hand with the healing balm. He smeared the substance over his lips and Harry was relieved to see the blood had stopped pouring out. 

After a minute of letting the solution work its magic, Draco was able to say again, "Like I said, you should probably get going." 

"Oh, right," Harry said sadly. He hadn't wanted to leave, but watching what just happened he figured it was probably a good idea. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him, and he didn't want to extend Draco's stay here. He had to be more careful. His selfish needs and desires just needed to be put on hold. He had to help him first. 

"I'll owl you when I get home." 

"Ok," Harry said. He walked back to his cloak and disappeared underneath. He gave Draco one last lingering look before he left the room. Draco sighed, sitting back on his bed in disappointment. 

 

"Mr. Potter," a foul looking goblin glared at him over a stack of galleons. He stood up from his seat at the gleaming desk, looking at Harry intently. "We are all under strict orders to make sure you are heavily supervised during your visit. I'm sure you can understand." 

Harry laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, of course." Then without a word they proceeded through the marble hall of Gringotts and towards the dimly lit passages that led to the cart system. They didn't speak till they reached the last cart, which was seated on a track that seemed to lead deeply into the bank. Harry's curiosity rose. 

"Your letter of authorization, please," the goblin asked, holding out his hand. Harry withdrew the parchment from his pocket and he snapped it out of Harry's hand. Beady eyes scanned the paper for only a second and then he folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "Right this way, then, Mr. Potter," and he gestured for Harry to get inside the cart. Harry did. 

It took them a good ten minutes descent till they reached their destination. They passed Harry's familiar vault 687 and kept on going. Delving deeper in the system they came to a darkened alcove and the cart squeaked to a halt. The goblin stepped out and lead Harry to the ornately carved door. There was a swirly pattern upon its surface. There was no key to vault 803, but the goblin pressed his hand to a blank spot on the left side of the door. The door didn't budge, and the goblin groaned. "Mr. Potter, please put your hand on the other side." 

Harry noticed another flat spot on the right side of the door. He pressed his hand and felt a tingle along his skin. It took a second for the door to recognize him, but once it had it completely vanished. Harry looked on into the vault. 

The room was cluttered with furniture. Ornate antiques in bronze, gold, silver. Harry felt lightheaded and overwhelmed. He had no idea what the vault contained and this was certainly a surprise. He walked over to where a dark cherry bedroom set was and ran his hands fondly over the armoire. The carving across was of a tree, with its branches weaving in out and in a somewhat circular pattern. The craftsmanship was impeccable. 

"What you're sssearching for isss in here," an otherworldly voice echoed in the silence. Harry gasped, stepping away from the furniture and looked over at the doorway. The goblin had his back to him and hadn't reacted. He hadn't heard the voice. 

Harry searched the vault, looking for any sort of movement. Sure enough, a shimmer of gold caught his eyes and Harry went over to the desk. It was a vanity with an oval mirror resting atop, carved in the same beautiful pattern that matched the armoire. Upon the drawers were golden handles....golden snake handles. Oh, Harry realized. 

"In here," hissed the top most snake. Harry smiled and carefully opened the drawer. Inside was a small jewelry box. He picked it up and examined it. Shocked, he saw the Black family crest decorating the top of the box. That was...unexpected. He was about to open the box but the snake hissed again, "Read the letter firssst, Mr. Potter." 

He looked back into the drawer and sure enough a piece of parchment had been nestled underneath the box. Harry took out the parchment and read the one line scrawled:  
_Wedding bands of Dorea Black and Charlus Potter_

Harry had seen Dorea Black's name vaguely before, on the tapestry at Grimmauld Place. He hadn't known the Potter and Black family had been so interwoven in the past. This certainly came as a surprise, and intrigued, Harry opened the jewelry box. 

Inside were two rings, one silver and one gold. The silver one had a band of emerald wrapped around it—the gold had ruby. The rings were simple in design and as Harry picked them up he could feel the magic radiating from them. His breath left him as he looked at the rings. This was just...too perfect. 

He put the rings safely back in the box and stuffed the letter inside. He held the box securely under his arm and proceeded to close the drawer slowly. "Pleassse tell me," hissed the snake. "Your betrothed issss a Ssslytherin." 

Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. "Yes," he whispered back. If he wasn't looking carefully at the handle he would have missed the wink it gave him. 

"Promisssse you will move us once the union has been formalizzzed." 

"I think we will," Harry smiled fondly at the handle. Then he turned away and met up with the goblin at the door. He nodded simply and they both stepped out of the vault. The door appeared instantly as they crossed the threshold. 

Harry woke up from his dream a second later, confused. All he could remember was Gringotts and a talking snake. The feeling of not remembering his dreams was nothing new, but somehow Harry knew Draco had not once graced this dream. This was something else entirely. 

Still in his confusion, Harry pulled on a pair of sweat pants and proceeded to go down to the kitchen. Light from the study halted him, though. The door was open and Harry could hear someone rummaging around. Carefully tiptoeing to the office, he pulled out his wand cautiously. 

To his relief, it was just Ginny. She was gathering up her various books and scrolls and stuffing them into a box. Harry sighed and his wife must have heard him because she froze. Her eyes met his and she said quickly, "Sorry, just getting some of my things. For the paper, y'know." 

"Ginny..." Harry said sadly. He walked over to her and somehow the desperate look she gave him caused Harry to say, "This is your house too...you are welcome here. You don't need to..." 

"Harry, just stop." She held up her hand, her voice trembling. Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut with the guilt. She was going to cry and Harry deserved it. He deserved anything she dished out on him. It was his fault for messing this up. It was his fault for ruining what they had. If only he could have forgotten Draco Malfoy. If only he wasn't completely and helplessly obsessed.

She took a deep breath, finally gaining the composure she needed to look him in the eyes. Her brown eyes were glistening with the tears she was trying not to shed. "We should tell the kids," she struggled to say. "Maybe after the dance. Don't want to ruin it for them, worrying about us..." She choked on the last word, turning away from Harry. 

He watched her shoulders shaking and heard her sob. Harry reached out awkwardly for her, but halted. For once he wasn't sure what to do. If he were to comfort her, would that have made this worse? Would she take it as a sign he wanted her back? He hesitated before he withdrew his hand. Through her crying Harry said quietly, "I'm going to make some tea. You're welcome to have some when you are finished in here." 

He stepped away from her and shut the office door, feeling like the awful husband he knew to be. Running his hands through his hair, he made his way down to the kitchen. He made an extra large pot of tea, hoping she would come down and join him. A half hour later he heard the rush of the Floo as she left. 

Draco's letter arrived that afternoon.


	14. Love Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco go out for drinks with Seamus and Jake. A letter arrives from Neville.

Stepping out of the Floo, Harry noticed he was in the same drawing room off the second floor of Malfoy manor.  Mibby greeted him anxiously, her little hands dusting any soot off Harry's shirt.  Once she finished she gave him a small smile and ushered him out the room.  "Right this way, Mr. Potter." 

They walked in silence, climbing another set of stairs.  On the third floor Mibby took the hall to the left and Harry followed.  They passed two doors on the left and one of the right before Harry heard a loud clacking sound coming from the next room, the door slightly ajar.  Mibby stopped in front of the door, halting Harry.  "He's here master," she called. 

Another clack and then footsteps shuffling across the hardwood floor.  Draco opened the door and gave Harry a warm smile.  "Thank you, Mibby.  You are dismissed."  The elf popped immediately after, and Draco backed from the door, waving Harry inside. 

Harry walked in without any hesitation and looked around his new surroundings.  The room looked _different._   It was as if it really didn't belong to a part of the manor and rather than stepping into just another room, Harry felt like he was stepping into a completely different building.  Gone were the fancy expensive furniture, elegant chandeliers, and old portraits lining every few feet of wall.  In fact, the only art to grace the wall was a modern piece.  It was a muggle painting, abstract. The canvas was unframed, the paint was oil, and if Harry squinted his eyes and tilted his head a little to the left he could vaguely make out an image. 

"You like it?" Draco asked, his voice tickling Harry's ear.  He was standing just behind and Harry shivered from his proximity. 

"Yes...but, is that...." Harry trailed off, focusing on the mix of blues that made the shading and highlights of yellows and oranges.   

A chuckle that Harry felt as well as heard came from Draco.  Out of the corner of his eye Draco then stood next to him, admiring the painting.  "Yes, Harry.  It's a nude.  Rather nice, isn't it?" 

Harry snorted.  "Draco, you're a pervert."  But even Harry could appreciate the work and the uh, assets of the model.   

Draco caught him staring at the focal point of the picture and he snorted in turn.  "I don't think I'm the only one."  Harry turned from the canvas and Draco gave him a wink.   The nervous fluttering feeling came back, and Harry gulped, looking away from him. 

He took his time, looking about the different room.  This room was  lit dimly with but a few candles, offering a unique glow about the place.  It made Draco look even more attractive, if that was even possible.  There were a few bookshelves lining another side of the wall and a long chocolate leather sofa nearby.  His eyes traveled more and he noticed a bar off in the far corner and then—"Is that a pool table?" asked Harry in disbelief. 

Draco laughed, approaching the green top and picking up a cue stick he had leaning against the table.  "Not pool, Potter.  Billiards," he corrected.  Then he turned away from Harry and faced the table.  He lined up his shot, and as he leaned forward Harry couldn't help but ogle him.  Malfoy really did have the most perfect arse. 

Another clack, and Draco had successfully stroke both the red and yellow ball with his cue.  He grinned triumphantly at Harry over his shoulder and Harry felt his throat go dry.  "Do you want to play with me?" He asked a moment later, his tone suggestive.  Was he still talking about pool?  Because Harry hoped he wasn't. 

Before Harry could answer him, the door to the billiards room burst open.  Both Draco and Harry turned in alarm and saw Jake and Seamus.  "Oi, you lazy bastard, we're going out!  Fucking Jason broke up..." Jake's voice faltered as he noticed Harry.  His eyes boggled, darting back and forth between Harry and Draco as if he wasn't really believing what he was seeing. 

"Harry," Seamus smiled at him, stepping around Jake and into the room.  "How's it going mate?" He asked, completely ignoring Jake gaping in the doorway. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Jake spoke up first.  "Draco, what is he doing here?  Don't you...uh, hate him?  After you saw that article in the paper of him with Astoria you were right pissed.  He's fucking your wife and now you're playing pool with him like the best of pals?  What the hell is going on here?" 

Draco rolled his eyes, walking away from him and towards the bar.  He pulled out a tumbler and proceeded to fill it with a dark liquid.  He didn't seem like he wanted to answer so Harry said simply, "Well, no.  I'm not seeing her.  We're just friends.  And Draco and I...well, we're friends too."  He couldn't help the flush that creeped up his face.  He hoped he hadn't just given themselves away. 

Neither of Draco's friends seemed to notice and Seamus grinned wider, walking over to the bar.  He stood next to Draco and leaned against the counter.  "Well, glad you both could come to your senses.  Hogwarts was a million years ago.  Glad the petty house rivalry bullshit is behind us," he said, reaching over and pouring his own glass of Firewhiskey.  He took a sip from his glass before continuing, "So anyway, Jake's in a crisis and heartbroken and he wants to go out and forget about everything.  Want to come?" 

Sighing, Draco swirled his drink in his hands.  "Well, we weren't really planning on going out.  I just got back.  I just wanted to have a nice quiet night at home." 

Seamus nodded, seeming to understand.  Jake however wasn't having any of that.  He walked in,  slumped against the bar and pouted at Draco.  "C'mon Drake...I need to get drunk.  I need to sing and dance the night away." 

Draco rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his drink.  Harry tried to let his eyes not linger at the way his Adam's apple bobbed but he failed miserably.  "You can do all that by yourself.  Go with Seamus, have some fun without me," Draco waved them off, leaving the bar and heading back to join Harry at the billiard table.  He picked up the cue stick again, turning his attention back to the green table top. 

"You know I won't get near the amount of interest with Seamus with me.  He looks too straight!"  Jake complained, swiping the drink out of Seamus's hands.   

"Hey!" Seamus yelped, and Harry couldn't tell what he was more bothered by—the comment on his appearance or the loss of his drink. 

At the table, Draco lined up another shot, this time using the yellow ball as his cue.  His eyes narrowed as he leaned over, his focus on the projected line he hoped to achieve.  He tapped the ball with such precise force that the yellow ball glided gracefully across the surface and hit the red ball.  After the collision,  it kept on going and Draco took the moment to look over at Harry.  Draco's face still held that focus and determination but this time his attention was directed at Harry.  It was the same look he held last night, just before he snapped his fingers and Harry's clothes vanished.  Harry swallowed hard. 

A split second later and the yellow ball came to a halt.  The ivory cue but a centimeter from it.  Draco's eyes returned to the table and he frowned.  "So what you're saying," Draco said, moving his attention back to the bar and his friends, "Is that I look obvious?  This coming from the man that wears makeup.  Right." 

"Stop being an over dramatic queen and come with me.  You know that's not what I meant.  Every man in there always wants you and if they figure they can't get you, they try to get me.  It's worked time and time again.  So let's go while the night is still young!"  Jake had finished Seamus's drink and slammed it on the counter.  He stumbled away from the bar and Harry wondered how much he had to drink before even getting here.   

He also wondered just what happened at these bar nights with Draco.  There was no denying that Draco was the most attractive man that Harry had ever seen.  Clearly other men seemed to think so too.  That thought didn't bode well with Harry.  He didn't know if he could handle seeing other people ogling Draco the way that Harry had.  Even though Harry couldn't have Draco in the ways he so desperately wanted, he certainly didn't want others to indulge.   

"We're not going," Draco said firmly, crossing his arms.  He was now standing next to Harry and he could make out the scent of a strangely familiar cologne.  Draco Malfoy smelled of dry cedar, leather, and the distinct fruity aroma of the drink he just consumed.  He smelled overwhelmingly delicious and Harry's mouth started to water.  He swallowed again. 

Jake stood in front of Draco now, glaring and crossing his own arms.  "You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?  Draco fucking Malfoy, do you really want me to tell everyone about Littlehampton in the summer of 2010?"  At his words, Malfoy paled.  Harry's curiosity piqued.  "How...what was his name again?  Alejandro?  Oh, well, his name doesn't matter.  What matters is how you—" 

"Fine!  I'll go!"  Huffed Draco, running over and slapping his hand over Jake's mouth.  Jake giggled,  shoving him away playfully.  Seamus barked in his own set of laughter and got up from the bar.  Harry smiled and was slightly disappointed.  Part of him wanted Jake to continue with his story. 

Jake and Seamus trailed out of the room and Draco lingered, looking back at Harry.  "Sorry.  If you don't want to come with us, I'll understand."  Then in a lowered voice that was only meant for Harry, "You know this isn't how I wanted to spend my evening.  I was really looking forward to a repeat of last night..." 

Harry couldn't help it and blushed scarlet.  He would have came up with his own retort but Seamus leaned around the door frame and said, "Oi!  Harry, come with us.  Might be nice for a change to not talk about Oliver Wood's _broomstick,_ but rather how brilliant a player he is." 

He grinned at Seamus, and that seemed to be the only convincing Harry needed.  Well that and it certainly helped that Draco took the moment to walk past Harry.  The scent of him hit Harry hard and he couldn't help but watch him go.  His hips swayed as he walked, Draco taking deliberate care in how he moved.  The arse Harry had been admiring moments before strained in the form-fitting trousers he was wearing.   

It was then that he realized he was checking out Draco.  He was checking him out in front of Seamus.  He felt his stomach lurch nervously and his eyes quickly darted to his fellow Gryffindor.  Seamus smirked at him knowingly from the doorway.  "Er, yeah," Harry blushed darker.  "I'll go." 

The place was bursting with commotion.  People were crammed around the bar and the stage looked just as crowded.  All of the seating was occupied and Harry was perfectly content just standing on the outskirts of the mob.  He was pleasantly surprised that no one had noticed him.  Much of the patrons were either too drunk or tipsy to care, or too involved with each other (Harry counted at least five couples, mostly men, sharing heated kisses).   

Draco and Jake had paired off, heading to the bar without a word to Harry or Seamus.  Harry watched them disappear in the crowd, his eyes absentmindedly locked on the spot they vanished in.  "I was right, wasn't I?" Seamus grinned, leaning in to shout in Harry's ear over the roar of the bar. 

"Huh?"  Harry asked, his eyes reluctantly leaving the bar and turning to his friend. 

Seamus beamed.  "You and him.  I knew it the moment I saw you guys walk into Hog's Head with your kids."  He chuckled before playfully adding, "Like one big happy family." 

"Oh please, it's not like that at all," Harry laughed nervously.  He looked around and saw a table clearing.  "Hey, let's go sit down over there," he suggested, while at the same time trying to change the subject. 

They moved to the table, but Seamus was not deterred.  He continued, "It's rather sweet, really.  Draco's usually not so domestic.  I've never seen him bring a bloke to Hog's Head with Scorpius.  He tries to keep his dating life separate from his family life, you know."     

"We're not dating," Harry said quickly and tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.  He hoped Seamus hadn't picked up on that.   

He did pick up on the look Draco flashed Harry from across the bar though.  The crowd parted at just the right second and grey eyes met Harry's.  He gave Harry a lazy smile that warmed Harry all the way through to his toes and left him breathless. 

"Right, not dating my arse.  You're at least fucking!  So get on with it, you can tell me," Seamus chuckled.  "Don't worry.  Your secret is safe with me." 

Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Thankfully Draco returned to the table and rescued him a second later.  "Here," he said as he plonked a goblet on the table for Harry.  Salt lined the upper rim of the glass and the green liquid glowed inside.   

"I don't drink margaritas," Harry said.  Actually, Harry had never drank margaritas, nor did he particularly ever want to.  He swore off tequila from the many nights he had to babysit Ginny as she returned from a girls night out.  If tequila could make his wife into a blithering mess, Harry had never wanted to know how he would react to such a thing.  He preferred to stick with his safer and, admittingly, more boring option of beer. 

"Nonsense," waved Draco as he sat in the chair next to him.  He leaned dangerously close and whispered, "They are your favorite."  His stormy grey eyes twinkled under the magically enchanted lights that littered the bar.  If Harry stared for much longer, it was almost as if he could recall the memory that was likely at the front of Draco's mind. 

"Merlin, we should have left you two at home," Seamus's voice cut in.  Draco broke their gaze, turning to him and let out a small chuckle of his own.  His laughter ringed in Harry's ears, causing the fluttering in his stomach again.   

"Hey, not my fault Jake pulled the summer of '10 card.  And just where is that bastard anyway?" Draco asked, looking around the bar.  He searched for what seemed like a few minutes and then settled his eyes on the stage.  "Oh no, no.  It's too early for that," he groaned.  He took a large swig of his drink (brandy again?) and let out a small shudder as the liquid warmed him.   

Harry looked and sure enough Jake was in a small queue to the stage.  It was karaoke night and people were taking turns making idiots of themselves.  At the moment an older wizard that reminded Harry vaguely of Dumbledore was belting tunes to Celestina Warbeck.  The crowd seemed to be in favor of the man and people were hooting and hollering and joining in with the lyrics. 

A witch sang a Muggle tune next, then a young man that couldn't have been much older than James followed.  As the singing went on, Harry felt the need for his drink.  Some of the singing was rather good, at other times it was unbearable and horribly off key.  Drinking surely made everything better.  He reluctantly pulled the straw to his lips and took a sip. 

It was bloody delicious.  He completely couldn't help the pleasant hum that escaped his lips and Draco smiled out of the corner of his eye.  Harry had two or three more drinks after that.  Maybe four?  Actually,  he wasn't quite sure.  The details were starting to drift from his mind and the only thing he was remotely aware of was Draco.  Draco was everywhere, his scent overpowering Harry, his laughs driving him mad with desire.   

And then he was gone.  He had been pulled up onto the stage with Jake and the pair started singing ridiculously off tune.  Draco must have had his fair share because Harry had never seen him look so carefree and...silly.  It was so out of character for him, but at the same time Harry couldn't help but feel pleasantly intrigued.  His singing voice wasn't the best Harry had ever heard, but not horrible either.  In fact, it was sort of endearing.  Through his thoughts on all this, Draco smiled again over at Harry from across the room.  And then it all made sense.  It all clicked into place.     

If this was a Draco that Harry had known in the past, it became perfectly clear to him then.  He was in love.  He was hopelessly and completely undeniably in love. 

The thought hit him like a pair of bludgers and Harry jolted out of his haze.  He stood from his chair, stumbling.  Seamus got up in alarm, "Harry, mate, you all right?" He asked, reaching and trying to steady his friend. 

Harry knocked his hands away, moving through the crowd.  He needed to get out of here.  The drinks were having a crazy effect on him and he didn't trust his actions for a second.  The last thing he needed was for him to do or say something he'd later regret by morning.  He was in love with Draco Malfoy.  Was:  as in, the past.  Most certainly,  definitely not a current something he was feeling.       

Successfully he made it to the Floo but a hand that burned pulled him back.  Harry turned, the room spinning, and sure enough Draco was looming over him.  He let go of his grip on Harry's forearm, knowing he had won Harry's attention and the concern etched on his features pinned Harry in place.  "Are you ok?"  He asked, searching Harry's face for an answer.  "Do you want to go?  We could go back to mine if you'd like." 

Fuck, that sounded like a fantastic idea.  And before Harry could think anymore he mumbled out, "Yes."  Draco eyed him carefully, as if not really buying it.  But he still threw the powder into the fireplace.  The flames illuminated a nice margarita-colored green.  It made him feel sick and certainly not up for the travel he was about to embark.   

Draco pushed him into the fire and shouted "Malfoy Manor!" 

The room had already been spinning before the Floo took him.  But once he felt the familiar tug in his insides, he lost control.  "Ugggghhhh," he moaned helplessly, closing his eyes from the swirling colors that flooded his vision. 

Once the spinning stopped, Harry fumbled out of the fireplace and retched right on the familiar marble floor of the manor.  He heard Draco shout, "MIBBY!"  Harry groaned again, just from the shout.  It pounded into his head and he clenched his eyes shut. 

A pop sounded off, the echo hurting just as much.  "Yes, Master Malfoy.  Oh, Mr. Potter!" She wailed, rushing over to Harry's side.  Harry's head was throbbing.  He was ready for everyone to just shut up right about now... 

"Fuck, where's your wand?" Hissed Draco, rifling through Harry's pockets.  Everywhere he touched Harry he felt the burn.  It was like being branded with a hot poker.   

"Ow, stop stop!" Harry cried out.  He shoved Draco back and plunged a hand into his front pocket and withdrew his wand.  He handed it over to Draco without thinking. 

The next second, Harry felt his weight leave him.  Draco was floating him down the hall, heading for the nearest bedroom.  He was able to keep his focus on Harry while at the same time asking Mibby for fresh linens and a sobriety potion from his potion's supply. 

At last, his body met the bliss of the bed.  It was only a second before he blacked out completely.   

What felt like hours but was in fact only minutes later, Harry was awoken roughly by a rush of water dousing his head.  "Fuck!" He screeched, shivering to the bone.  Draco snorted, his wand still pointed at him.  Harry glared, hating him more than ever.  At least that was a familiar feeling. 

"Drink this, you idiot," Draco shoved the vial into his hands.  Harry did as he was told because Draco met his glare with a matching one of his own, and Harry was silently afraid of what would happen if he didn't listen.   

The spinning and dizzy feeling stopped with such a sudden relief that Harry gasped.  Draco rolled his eyes and turned to leave.  "All right.  Stay the night.  I'll be down the hall if you need me." 

Harry managed to whisper a small, "Thank you," to Draco before he left.  He plopped back down onto the bed a second later and Draco's lips turned up at the corner.  He shook his head.   

Morning arrived to the familiar sound of tapping at the window.  Harry groaned into his pillow.  Lazily, he didn't want to get up and let the owl in.  He reached over to the bedside table for his wand, only it wasn't there.  He snapped his eyes open on reflex, looking over.       

Gone was the plain oak table from his bedroom and in its place was a fancy cream and gold one.  In the next second, he raced his eyes around the rest of the room.  Oh, Harry thought.  And the events of last night started to return to him.  He had stayed the night.  He had gotten sick.  Fuck...did he throw up in front of Draco? 

Tap, tap.  Oh, bird.  Right.  Harry got up, trying to brush away the feeling of humiliation.  His family owl swooped in and dropped a letter on the bedspread.  She hooted pleasantly as she found a nice perch to rest.  She preened her feathers as Harry ran a thumb under the seal and opened it.  Inside was a letter from Neville.  It read: 

_Harry,_  

_I'm sorry to have to write all this in a letter but I tried contacting you by_ _Floo_ _last night after classes and you were unavailable.  Anyway, it's in regards to Albus and Scorpius.  They were_ _inseparable_ _before they became a couple, but now it has gotten worse.  I've already caught them three times in the past week behind the green houses.  They were lucky it was only me that saw them rather than any other faculty._ _I'm not going to give detention to a bunch of love-struck teenagers, but I am one of the few that feels this way._  

_As it is, between the two of them_ _Slytherin_ _has lost 400 points.  Professor Moonbrook found them in her potion's supply cupboard after hours and they have detention for the rest of the following week._ _Harry, I_ _really like Al_ _..._ _and Scorpius isn't a bad kid either.  But I feel your son's grades are slipping.  Normally he does pretty decently in all his classes, but he has seemed distant and preoccupied during lessons._  

_We have debated on not allowing them to attend the dance._ _The faculty doesn't want to forbid them from going, but at the rate they are going we are weighing our options.  Have you considered attending as a chaperone?_  

_I know, I know.  Attending a Hogwarts ball is probably the last thing on your list you want to be doing what with your busy_ _Auror_ _schedule.  But perhaps with parental influence you could provide the anchor Albus needs to get back on track.  I'd just hate to see Albus get in any further trouble.  If he won't listen to_ _us,  perhaps_ _he'd listen to you._  

_Please write back and let me know what you think.  Bring Ginny if she's not busy as well.  We'll try to make it fun for you tw_ _o._  

_Neville_  

Sighing Harry let the letter fall back on the bed.  He stood, stretching, and looked around for his clothes.  They were folded, pressed, and cleaned in the nearby dresser.  He slipped them on, his mind still on his son.   

He should have felt disappointment.  Actually, Harry was pretty sure he was still slightly buzzed from last night because that was the only explanation he had for not reacting in the way he should have.  Instead, he felt empathy.  If Albus was as obsessed over Scorpius as Harry was over his father, it would have been totally natural that things had gone the way they had.  In fact, Harry was silently thankful he hadn't investigated further into his own teenage Malfoy obsession.  If he would have found out what he knew now, Harry surely would have failed his classes.   

Harry wandered aimlessly out of the room and down the hall.  His feet were taking him through the manor of their own accord as his mind strayed to his son and Scorpius.  He was just to the stairs when a voice boomed through a nearby room.  "400 points!?  What the HELL has he been doing!?" 

Draco slammed open his bedroom door, clutching a letter of his own in his hands.  He was seething as he marched down the hall and to the stairs.  He froze when he saw Harry.  "What the fuck, Potter?" He growled out. 

"What?  Why is this my fault?" Harry yelped. 

"It's always your fault!  Your son, he's corrupted my boy!  He was top of his class and now they are threatening to suspend him from Quidditch if he won't stop!  And now he's been seen stealing boomslang skin from Professor Moonbrook.  Sounds awfully familiar, if you ask me!"  Draco huffed, coming to stand but a few inches from Harry.  His breath was hot and flew over Harry's skin. 

"Oh, come off it!  Scorpius is just as guilty as Al.  They are just being kids."  Then Harry couldn't help it and had to clarify out of spite, "And besides, Rose is top of the class, everyone knows that.  Then it's Al followed closely by Scorpius.  I mean, really, Malfoy..." 

Draco growled low in his throat, his eyes burning into Harry.  "Fuck you, Potter." 

Harry didn't know what it was with Draco Malfoy or why he couldn't help it.  Instead of barking a bitter retort right back he felt his lips twist upwards.  He took the opportunity and murmured, "What?  Right here?  On your stairs?" 

Grey eyes flashed dangerously.  Harry's breath caught in his throat and he knew in the next minute he was either going to be punished or rewarded for the comment.  Harry was shocked to think that either would have been fine, really. 

"I'd take you on the stairs, in every room of this house, in the gardens, in the dungeons.  I'd fuck you on the dining room table, the grand piano in the ballroom and hell, even my parents old bedroom.  But now," Draco paused, his eyes carefully tracing Harry up and down.  "If you aren't in my room in the next few minutes I'm going to..." 

His voice faltered and Harry groaned.  He was ridiculously hard and hanging on to every word uttered from those perfect lips.  "You'll...what?" Harry gasped out. 

A smirk.  "400 points.  From Gryffindor."   

Harry didn't need to be told twice. 


	15. Volatile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as things are starting to heat up, another bomb sets off. Actually, it's more like one massive explosion after another. Or, the chapter where shit just hits the fan. Enjoy. :D

Harry was slowly starting to realize he was in trouble. He was digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole. He knew how to get himself out, he knew what he had to do. But much like his son, Harry couldn't help it. A flash of grey eyes was all that he needed before Harry was bending to Draco Malfoy's will.

Their time spent together grew more heated, the want and need all consuming. Each encounter bringing them closer and closer, until Harry couldn't stand it anymore.

It happened about a week later. Astoria was out for the day on a shopping trip with the girls and they knew not to expect her for at least a couple of hours. Harry and Draco were taking things slow, playing billiards in what Harry now called Draco's play room. Draco was a great teacher, Harry a fast learner, and the two of them were soon neck and neck on points.

Draco was lining up his last shot for the game. Harry had the sneaking suspicion the man had leaned forward on purpose, presenting Harry with the delightful view of his arse in those cursed blue jeans. How Harry desperately wanted...

Well, that. It was as if the world read his thoughts and granted him his wish. By some unforeseeable force Draco's clothes vanished a second later. The intrusion hit Draco just as he putted the ball with his cue stick and he jerked, the ball went flying off the table.

White blonde hair whipped around and Harry was caught in the intense stare of stormy eyes. "That's cheating Potter," he chuckled.

"I don't care," Harry said. And he really didn't. He took two steps and was standing too close now. The air between them felt hot. The only way Draco could get away would be to back up into the table. That particular thought was just what Harry wanted.

He let a small grin fall across his lips. Harry inched closer. Draco responded by inching further away. It was a dance they were starting to get very good at. They knew just how close they could be without the bond flaring up and it was sort of a game to push the boundaries. Whoever would be first to crack under the pressure lost. And with the delightful image of Draco Malfoy stark naked pressed against the billiard table, Harry knew he was going to lose this game. Or perhaps win, if you thought of it that way.

In the blink of an eye, Draco fell back. His pale back hit the soft surface of green and he laid sprawled out for Harry's hungry eyes. Green eyes sparked, looking down at Draco with such a fierceness that the other man was momentarily stunned from his expression. Those eyes held the questions and answers to everything Draco could ever possibly fathom and he was slowly getting caught up in the feelings Harry always managed to pull from him. He felt lost...and alive...and _wanted._ Draco tried to hold back the emotions that were wrecking him to the core, but it was starting to be too much. He never thought Harry would look at him like _that_ ever again.

Draco clenched his eyes shut, trying to bury these emotions deep inside. He didn't want Harry to know he had just been mooning over him, for Merlin's sake. They might have been in love at one point, many years ago. But this was a different Harry now, and he was a different Draco. They could never go back to the way things were—no matter how long Draco wished for things to have turned out differently.

"Draco...could you do something for me?" Harry asked hesitantly.

His grey eyes fluttered open and took in the man standing in front of him. Harry stood with his shirt parted and barely hanging on over his shoulders. His pants were unbuttoned and hung low over his hips. His thick cock was peaking at the waistband of his boxers and fuck, what Draco would give to be able to pull those clothes off him and take him completely whole in his mouth. He really was rather good at giving head. Harry taught him well.

"Draco?" Harry's voice rang through his thoughts.

Caught in his staring, Draco moved his eyes back up to Harry's face. "Yes?" He asked.

Harry had hooked his fingers in his boxers and tugged them down. A second later and he was stroking his already very hard erection. A delightful blush graced his cheeks and he sheepishly asked, "Do you think you could...ummmm..."

Draco's grin darkened and he spread his legs further for Harry. He brought his pale fingers over to his own cock and started to stroke languidly. "Like this, Harry?"

"Merlin...that's, so good..." Harry mumbled out, breathless. "But..."

But? Something was wrong and Draco stopped his fingers over his length. "But what? Is this not what you want?" He tried to keep the worry out of his voice. He was rather enjoying their recent time together and it was better than any dream he had following their abrupt break up. If this was the only way he could have Harry, he'd take it.

"No...it's not that," Harry quickly said. Then in a more nervous tone he stumbled out, "Er, well. Could you, um...maybe...finger yourself?"

There was a brief silence as the words hung in the air. Then a smirk from Draco broke the moment. "Potter, you dirty pervert," he grinned widely and Harry flushed darker.

"Um, well...if you don't want to..."

"Just shut up and stop talking," Draco commanded. Harry was about to make his own retort but lost that battle as Draco flipped himself over on the table. He stretched like a cat, his arse held high. And just the image of Draco Malfoy presenting his backside to Harry was glorious in of itself—it got better. Draco's hands reached up and parted his perfectly rounded cheeks and nothing could have drew Harry's attention away from this sweet moment. Hell, Voldemort could have came back to life and killed him right in this second because there was no way Harry was ever going to look at anything else but Draco and his fucking arse.

And oh, what a sight this was. Draco's skin was puckered and a delicious dark pink color. Harry was starting to consider giving away what little sanity he had left just so he could reach over and touch the other man. What Harry wouldn't give to be able to run a finger down that crevice, plunging straight into that small, tight hole that was all Draco.

There was a small clatter and Harry's wand had rolled away from Draco on the table. Harry was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't realized Draco had withdrew a hand underneath him. But the hand returned a second later, his pale fingers shining with lube. Harry heard him exhale deeply and watched as Draco visibly relaxed. He stretched again, spread his legs further and reached around.

A sharp gasp hit Harry's ears as Draco swirled a finger in and Harry was a goner. He grabbed his cock roughly with one hand and stumbled, his other hand holding onto the edge of the table. Harry tugged hard, his breaths coming out ragged, and the pleasure was building so much his eyes were wanting to clench shut. Harry couldn't look away though.

Draco had added a second finger, his moans and whines hitting Harry with force. An animalistic urge was forming in the pit of Harry's stomach, and oh how he could just grab him by the hips right now and fuck him into this table. He was so close. If only he could plunge in and feel Draco's heat wrapped around him. He knew it would feel good, and oh how Harry wanted.

One more stroke and Harry was coming, losing himself completely. Without thinking he reached for Draco and his hand held onto his waist to keep himself steady. The moment their skin touched, they both felt the flare of the bond. Draco came in that moment, feeling Harry's burning fingers touching him, Harry's come released all over his back.

His hand lingered longer than Draco wanted. "Harry, please...your hand..." He groaned out, wincing from the touch.

Harry removed his hand quickly and backed away. The post sex daze he had vanished when he looked upon Draco's hip. There was a clear blood red mark of Harry's handprint. Blisters were starting to form from where Harry's fingers had gripped him hard during his climax. "Fuck, Draco...I'm sorry," he said helplessly. "Let me go get that ointment..."

He turned around and sat on the table, facing Harry. He rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry's wand. He waved it, muttered, " _Scourgify._ " The tingle of the cleaning charm was felt over both of them before Draco flung his legs over and stood shakily to his feet. They stood close and Draco's sigh was felt over Harry's face. "I think maybe," he started to say, a frown forming on his lips. "Perhaps we should take a break from this."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling as if he'd just been slapped. His stomach plummeted. "What? No, Draco. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Have you found out more about the bond?" Draco cut in sharply, his eyes narrowing. His arms were crossed and Harry was instantly reminded of the younger Malfoy from years before.

"What? Um, no," Harry said, frowning. Honestly when he wasn't at work, he was here at the manor goofing off with Draco. He was rather distracting...which Harry wasn't going to complain about.

Another sigh from Draco was heard, this one hinting at irritation. "Well, don't you want to get this magic off me? From the way you gripped me tonight, I thought that was pretty clear." He walked past Harry, still holding his wand and _Accio-_ ed his clothes from across the room. He slipped his shirt over his head, white blonde hair falling over his eyes. He shoved a hand through his locks, pushing them back. "Don't you want to fuck me for real next time? Wouldn't you like to be inside me?"

"Fuck, yes," Harry replied. He tried to suppress a groan from what that image was doing to Harry's mental state.

A hum from Draco was heard as he pondered for a minute. He stepped back into his trousers and as he was buttoning them up he said, "Perhaps you need a little motivation. I'm a little disappointed the thought of taking me wasn't enough to have you running off on your mission to defeat this. But maybe this will help you." His grey eyes looked up and caught Harry's firmly. "No more of this," he waved his hand between them in a gesture, "Till you figure out how to break the bond."

Harry's disappointment flooded him and he slumped sadly against the billiard table. "What?" He asked, not really believing what Draco was suggesting. "What if I can't figure it out?"

"You're the Chosen One," Draco replied, snorting. "You always save the day. I don't think you could fail even if you tried."

Harry laughed awkwardly, standing up from the table. He hiked his pants back up and around his waist, buttoning up his shirt again. "Yeah, you're probably right about that." His eyes scanned Draco one more time, logging in the memory for later. Harry always liked how Draco looked after sex and how his careful appearance came undone afterwards.

His eyes roamed on, then focusing on his wand in Draco's hand. Draco had been using his wand for the past week now, Harry having left it to him the first night he stayed at the manor. He never bothered asking for it back since Draco's wand was working just as fine for him. "I should probably have my wand back," he muttered. "Might need it to slay a dragon or something in my quest, y'know."

Draco laughed, his grey eyes holding a sparkle. Harry's throat constricted. "I rather like holding your wand," he said mischievously a second later.

Harry grinned, pulling out Draco's wand from his pants pocket. They both looked down at it and Harry's thumb trailed absentmindedly over the hawthorn wood. "Well, holding your wand helped me kill Voldemort, so there's that." Draco snorted, his mind obviously still in the gutter. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to hold it for awhile longer..."

"You can hold it for as long as you need to Potter," Draco chuckled, then there was a wink.

Harry laughed, then sobered quickly as his mind drifted to earlier. "So, we're really not doing this anymore?" He pouted shamelessly. "I was starting to really look forward to seeing you naked every day..."

Draco's smile vanished and he looked past Harry. "Listen, as much as I want to keep going on with this (and believe me, I do) I just think for now it would be best if we stopped for a little while. I think if we keep at this we're both going to cave. And as much as I'd love to die to fucking the savior of the Wizarding World, I'd much rather live a longer life with you."

His heart fluttered at Draco's words and he nodded, understanding. "Ok, I'll do what I can to get rid of this." Draco's eyes returned to Harry's, hopeful. He didn't know what made him say what he did next, but the thought of being without Draco was not something Harry could handle any more. "Could we still, hang out? Get to know each other? Like, friends?"

Draco nodded, a small smile forming on his lips again. "Well, my friends seem to already think that's what we are. Might as well..."

Very few words were exchanged between them since, and Harry left the manor shortly after. His heart ached as he stepped into the Floo to go home. This would be the last time in who knew how long...but Harry would figure things out. He had to. The last thing he saw as the Floo took him was Draco's sad face, watching him leave.

His blissful week with Draco had zoomed on by in a flurry of heated exchanges. The week that followed dragged agonizingly slow and soon the Halloween ball was approaching. Harry debated on whether he really wanted to chaperone, but perhaps returning to Hogwarts would take his mind off things. He certainly needed the distraction that Draco was no longer providing him.

Things at work had returned much in the same way. Ron was the only one that seemed to act differently towards him (being that he was the only one in the whole department who knew about his currently failing marriage). He was taking on extra case work for Harry, bringing coffee and checking up on him frequently throughout the days. Harry thought he was being terribly overbearing, but he didn't want to tell him off.

They came to a point on Thursday when Ron came by his office at the end of the work day and asked if he was coming to mum's for dinner. "She's just been really worried about you, and wondering how you've been holding up."

"Are you mad?" Harry asked, looking up from the file he had propped open on his desk. "I really don't think it'd be a good time to visit. Ginny is staying there after all, and last I saw of her she wanted nothing to do with me."

"Harry, please. We've all talked about it. You guys just need to resolve your differences. It's really rather normal for couples to go through a rift. I'm sure if you guys could just sit down and have a discussion, you can mend whatever's happened. She still loves you, you know."

Vaguely Harry had wondered what Hermione had told Ron about in regards to his situation. Clearly, he knew nothing. Harry sighed, pulling off his glasses and set them on his desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Ron, you really need to stop. This thing with Ginny...it's not going to get better. I still love her, care about her, but things are different now. It's complicated."

Ron quickly looked over his shoulder and spelled the door shut. He loomed over Harry and crossed his arms. "Complicated? What could be so complicated about it? You love her, she loves you. You didn't fucking cheat on her, did you? I swear, Harry..."

His green eyes looked up at the ceiling as he silently pleaded for his next words. "No, Ron. It's not that." Because, technically Harry hadn't cheated. Well, not really. Maybe mentally he had—but really, he could hardly control the dreams that had overwhelmed him as of late. All he was doing was remembering things, or rather, trying to remember things.

Yeah, it was really complicated.

"Then what is the bloody problem, huh?" Ron asked, not taking the hint. No doubt he was slightly angry because this was his sister, after all. And Harry was his best mate. Harry and Ginny were a set-in-stone thing in his eyes and nothing would change that.

Harry said the only thing that made any sense. It was a rather terrifying thing to say and he had thought about it in plenty of detail over the course of the past few weeks. Now seemed like more of a time than any to voice his thoughts. "Well...I think I might be...uh, gay."

Ron paled and froze on the spot in front of Harry's desk. It must have been five minutes before he made any sort of reaction. When he finally came to, he shook his head in disbelief. "What? You? That's ridiculous. You and Ginny...you've had kids. You've had sex with women. How could you be gay if you sleep with women?"

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his black locks. The gesture calmed him slightly and he was able to go on, "Well, maybe gay isn't the most accurate word. It's just well, I was talking to Seamus about it. I guess you could say I'm sort of bisexual. I like women—certain women. And well, I like men too."

His friend slumped into the chair in front of him. He looked dazed, looking off to the side of Harry. "Blimey, mate. You're not...in love with me or something, are you?"

Harry gave him a disgusted face. "Urggh, no. Sorry Ron, no offense."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, seeming to relax the first time with this conversation. But he thought quickly about something else and visibly tensed again, "Wait, so how do you know you like men in the first place? If you haven't been cheating on her. Maybe it's just a phase, maybe it's all in your head."

Perhaps at one point, it truly was all in Harry's head. He knew now though that this wasn't the case anymore. He was actively trying to get rid of the _foedus_ so he could potentially be with Draco. He'd already made his decision and he was in too deep to change his mind. Nothing else seemed to matter.

"Ron, it's not a phase," he confirmed. "There's someone else." Ron's face turned to disbelief and Harry quickly went on, before his friend could get another word in. "I haven't been with him or anything, really. But now with Ginny gone, I'm thinking about him more and more. And I think I want to give him and I a chance. I've...never felt this way about anyone before."

There was a moment of silence as the words settled in. The only thing that was heard next was Ron's iconic, "Bloody hell." He reached across the desk for the cup of coffee he brought over earlier and drank the remains in one harsh gulp. Finally, his eyes met Harry's and he asked, "So, this bloke...does he feel the same for you?"

He nodded and said simply, "Yes. I'm pretty sure he does."

"So...my sister," Ron started, and Harry's gut twisted with guilt. "Are you guys...going to divorce? From what she's told me she's not really sure on much of what's going on. Have you talked about what you plan on doing?"

Harry sighed heavily. "She's been avoiding me lately so any sort of talk has been nonexistent. I've caught her a few times at home getting more of her things, but she just brushes me aside. She doesn't want to talk, so I've just been giving her space."

"You think she knows there's someone else?" Ron asked curiously, tilting his head in thought.

He repeated his sigh. "Yes, she knows. I er, sort of let his name slip while we were...y'know." Harry waved his hand vaguely and Ron's eyes widened.

"Mate, that's fucked up."

"Tell me about it. I know this whole thing is fucked up. I'm wanting to throw away my marriage of close to twenty years in the off chance I can be with this guy." He ran a hand nervously in his ragged black hair and went on, "Thing is, I can't get him out of my mind. Just the beginning of the week he put a hold on us till I get this mess all sorted out and I'm completely a wreck. I can't stop fucking thinking of him. It's like school all over again, this obsession that just won't go away."

Ron stood up abruptly, his chair knocked to the floor. Harry heard the thump as it collided with the hardwood and his stomach plummeted. He realized too soon that he had said too much, and it was too late to take back what he had revealed. Sure enough, Ron asked cooly, "Wait...hold on. Who _are_ you talking about?" His face reddening to the point that it almost matched the hue of his hair.

"Ron..." Harry said desperately, standing up to reach for his friend.

Ron backed away, shaking his head. "Please tell me it's not him. Harry...anyone but him!"

His green eyes met Ron's and his lips parted to say something, anything. But words had failed him. Nothing he could say would help the situation, and he wasn't going to lie to his friend. Instead he looked helplessly at Ron, his eyes silently pleading for him to understand.

"Wow, ok. So you're not going to say anything about it? It's really true then, huh? You're going to dump your wife (my sister, might I add) for fucking Malfoy?" Ron was pacing now, and Harry could feel the anger building. His office felt stifling with all the emotion trapped between them. "Just...who the fuck are you? Because the Harry I know..."

Harry couldn't handle hearing much more. It was like a switch clicked. "The Harry you know is a lie. The Harry I thought to be was a lie! I had a whole other life wiped clean from my memory. My future with him was taken from me, all that we had vanished without a trace. And now, I want it back. Nothing is going to stand in my way. I've gone on long enough living this lie. I want to be with him and nothing you say, your sister, his wife, nobody is going to stand in my way." His fists were unconsciously clenched at his sides, his gaze daring Ron to disagree with him.

His friend paused in his pacing. Ron looked at his serious expression knowing full and well that there was no convincing him otherwise. He had seen that look in his friend's eyes only a few occasions and he knew he'd be a fool to question him now. "Right," he resigned, however his glare only intensified. "Just do my sister right by telling her all this instead of stringing her along. She needs to move on." And with that Ron walked out of his office, slamming the door behind him.

Slumping in his chair again, Harry exhaled loudly. It was awhile before he had calmed down. And it was awhile more before he left for the day.

* * *

Draco and Harry had been keeping in brief contact through little letters passed on between them, which Harry cherished more than he probably should have. They'd see each other only once a week, during Friday night pub nights with Seamus and Jake. The four had a lot of fun going out together and it helped Harry take his mind off his rift with his whole Weasely family. It was an unspoken rule on these outings to not bring up anything too serious, and just to have fun. Harry was relieved.

That was, until the Friday night before Halloween cropped up. Draco informed Harry he wasn't going to go to the dance because he had an appointment in France with a potions supplier. Harry wasn't going to admit to him he was pretty disappointed, but Draco could easily tell from the look in his eyes. "Don't worry," he whispered to Harry, leaning next to him at the bar. "There will be another dance, and when that time comes I'd love to go with you."

He gave Harry that gorgeous smile that made him feel weak and caused his cheeks to flush uncontrollably. Seamus looked at both of them and snorted over his pint, "Merlin, don't know why you bother. Don't need to hold back on my account. I already know you're fucking."

Harry spluttered and Draco rolled his eyes at Seamus. "Seamus, seriously. We're not fucking. Harry's married after all." His grey eyes met Harry's and he winked. Harry's throat dried.

"Oh, so waiting till the divorce is final? How noble of you, Harry."

Jake took that moment to pry his way in between Seamus and Harry at the bar. He reached over for Harry's margarita and downed it in one go. After he was finished he shoved Seamus playfully. "Hey, stop that. We're not talking about divorce right now. We're not talking about any of that shit right now."

"Oh?" Seamus moved his eyes from Harry and Draco to Jake. "So what are we going to talk about then?"

Jake giggled and grabbed Seamus by the hand. "We're not going to talk about anything. Come dance with me." He pulled him to the far end of the room where a large gathering of people were crammed together. Harry watched as Jake reached over and planted both hands on Seamus's bum, completely unashamed. Seamus laughed, mirroring him. Draco shook his head, looking away from the scene.

Even though Draco was no longer watching them, Harry couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. They were leaning closer now, and Harry had to admit they made a strange yet sort of endearing pair. "You don't think..." Harry started to say, watching as Seamus dipped Jake in an impressive twirl. "You don't think they are going to..."

Draco snorted, still facing the bar. "I'd say they are about due. Once in a blue moon..."

"Isn't Seamus with...what's her name? Lisa?" Harry asked, vaguely recalling the name mentioned once or twice from his friend.

"Lisa is a flake," Draco scoffed.

"And Jake's any better?" Harry asked dubiously.

Draco chuckled, his grey eyes looking up from the drink in his hands to look over at Harry. "I guess you've got a point there." He then scooted his barstool closer to Harry and their knees practically touched they were sitting so close. He turned away from the bar and watched his friends with Harry. "Jake doesn't know what he wants and Seamus doesn't like commitments. Jake's the gayest man I know...and Seamus...well, the straightest gay I've known."

"You can't be a straight gay, that makes absolutely no sense!" Harry laughed, shaking his head.

"Either way," Draco waved him off. "It's always like this. Next week Jake will have found a new boyfriend and Seamus will have probably dumped Lisa by then."

The music had slowed down now and a lot of the crowd had moved off to the side. Seamus and Jake stayed put, their arms embracing each other loosely. Jake had nuzzled into Seamus's neck and Harry finally moved his eyes away from them, suddenly flushing. "You don't think they ever considered dating...er, each other?"

"Potter," Draco groaned, rubbing his temple. "Just...stop."

"What? They look really happy out there!" Harry said, reaching for his empty glass. He frowned, suddenly remembering Jake had drank it. The bartender must have noticed him because a second later a new drink appeared to Harry's delight.

"They may be happy now, but come tomorrow they are going to be at each other's throats. Their relationship...it's volatile."

Harry laughed, and it came out sort of like a giggle. "Sounds pretty familiar to me."

Stormy grey eyes met Harry and he gave him a half smile. He lifted his glass in a silent gesture and Harry clinked his goblet to it. "To being volatile, the beauty of a charged explosion."

And no truer words were spoken. If Harry had to find the way to state his current life it was that. Draco came barrelling into his life, completely disrupting all that he had known. And now Harry was wading the waters, trying not to drown from the mess that was around him. His family was falling apart, old friendships were strained.

But here was Draco, the volatile substance that set off this explosion. And once the fire died, Harry knew he would still be there. That really, he was always there. And Harry could see that now. The thought made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside and before he knew it he slumped against Draco along the bar.

Their lips met in a quick burning kiss. Harry felt his breath leave him and he was drunk—not from margaritas, but drunk from Draco. He felt dizzy with the need to be close, having been denied from all of this. He kissed him hurriedly and with hunger and Draco moaned, torn between pulling him close and pushing him away.

And the burn was...intense. It was really an explosion all its own. And then there was a flash, the click of a camera. And Draco pushed Harry abruptly away, gasping and searching for the source of the noise. Harry was still pretty light headed, not really registering what was going on around him. The only thing he really wanted was for Draco to keep kissing him, to taste those delicious lips once more.

"Fuck! Who did it!" Draco seethed, standing up and looking around frantically. His tone of voice brought Harry out of his daze and he got up, meeting Draco in the center of the bar.

"What? Did what?" He asked, completely oblivious.

"Fuck, you idiot! You can't just kiss me like that! This is not good...not good at all," he groaned in frustration. Jake and Seamus had heard the commotion and came back from the dance floor. Their faces laced with concern.

"Draco...calm down," suggested Seamus. "You're making a scene."

"I don't bloody well care. It doesn't fucking matter anyway. That photo is going to be on the front page tomorrow, mark my words."

Harry's stomach plummeted, finally registering what happened. Perhaps he had drank too much, because he hadn't realized...

"What photo?" Asked Jake, his eyes shining curiously.

"Fucking Potter had to go and kiss me in front of everyone!" Draco wailed in distress.

Seamus sighed, running over to pat Draco on the back. Jake stood and looked between Draco and Harry with rapt interest. A minute passed under his gaze till he finally said, "You and Harry? Wow, I never really thought about it...but now that you mention it. That would be pretty fucking hot. You think you guys could...y'know...kiss again?" Jake asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up.

Harry blushed and Draco groaned again. "Ugh, fuck off Jake!"

"Fine, whatever. I'm sure I'll see the photo tomorrow anyway." He pouted and then grabbed Seamus by the forearm. "C'mon, let's get out of here." Seamus gave both Draco and Harry one last sad lingering look before he left the pub with Jake.

The minute they left, Draco headed for the Floo connections in the back of the room. Harry followed after him, "Listen, Draco...I didn't mean to. I'm sorry..."

"Potter, just stop. I don't want to fucking talk about this right now."

"Maybe it won't be that bad," Harry said helplessly.

Draco turned from the fireplace, the Floo powder held tightly in his palm. "Not bad? Fuck, Harry I'm going to be outed to the whole magical community tomorrow thanks to you! You think they are going to be happy that the Head Auror kissed a former Death Eater so openly? Ha...not that bad. You're fucking hilarious." He threw the powder in furiously, stepping into the green flames.

"Please, I just..." But Draco disappeared a split second later.

And when morning arrived, another explosion went off. Harry didn't think it was nearly as volatile as Draco though.

Nothing could be as volatile as Draco Malfoy, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been working on this chapter for awhile--in between studying for finals and all that. Sorry for the delay. The spring semester is just about over so hopefully I won't have very many more distractions.


	16. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry retreats to Grimmauld Place. Hermione acts like the great friend she always is.

Over the years Harry had grown used to the extra attention the Wizarding World had placed upon him.  Especially after the fall of Voldemort, he received thousands of letters from all across the world.  Fan mail was a frequent occurrence, even over twenty years later.  He was not, however, prepared for the firestorm of letters he received the next morning. 

He woke up with his head pounding, sick to his stomach, and sprawled across the couch of the living room.  He shifted on the sofa and a rustling sound assaulted him from all directions.  He blearily opened his eyes and took in his surroundings and was instantly reminded of the Hogwart's letter scenario at the Dursley's.  Parchment was everywhere,  not a bare inch of floor to be found.  And the envelopes kept coming, whizzing in through the fireplace, owls stuffing them in the cracks of the windows and through the front door mail slot.      

Harry managed to get up, his head throbbing and he swam through the mess of letters to the bathroom.  After he washed his face with cold water, he felt slightly better.  The feeling didn't last long as he walked back into the living room and noticed all the howlers scattered amongst the other more tame cream colored envelopes.  Hearing someone scream at the tops of their lungs was the last thing he needed right now and he carefully climbed the stairs to his bedroom, wiggling this way and that to avoid triggering any of the dreadful things.   

There were letters in his bedroom too, though not nearly as much as downstairs.  The family owl was sitting on her perch and clutched an envelope of her own.  Harry saw a flash of the ministry seal upon the letter face and figure he'd probably have to at least open that one.  Sighing, he took it from his owl and read: 

_Harry,_  

_Given the current situation I think it wise if you take an emergency vacation.  I will have Ron fill in while you are away.  I will notify you when I feel it is safe for your return.  In the_ _meantime, please_ _lay low as much as you can.  I know you would_ _reject the offer of a few_ _Aurors_ _stationed around for your safety, but please do not hesitate to contact me if you feel the need._  

_K. Shacklebolt_

He set the letter down on his desk and noticed the newspaper right next to it.  Sure enough, right across the top fold was the photo of him with Malfoy.  In big bold letters the heading read, " **POTTER AND MALFOY'S TORRID AFFAIR."** He yanked open the Prophet angrily and scanned the words quickly.  The article itself was rather tame, written more in a speculative tone as if not really believing the people involved were Harry or Draco.  There was a smaller photo of him with Astoria on the day they went out shopping, hinting that perhaps Harry was only with her in order to get with her husband.  It was all rather ludacris, really. 

But that photo, _Merlin,_ that photo.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words but this photo left Harry speechless.  He watched,  transfixed,  as his past self reached over for Malfoy and passionately devoured him with not a care in the world.  The desire was so clear in the way he gripped Draco possessively, deepened the kiss hungrily.  However the most remarkable thing about the photo was how Draco's own desire for Harry was completely mirrored.   He visibly melted in Harry's arms and met his lips eagerly with his own.  He couldn't believe how visually arousing the sight of both of them together was to him.  If Harry wasn't in such a crisis, he would have been completely turned on by that photo alone.   

And now, the whole world knew.  And Malfoy was gone.  Harry frowned and slumped on his bed.  He had to make things right—but how was he to do that?  He hadn't a clue. 

He spent the rest of his day mourning in his bed and nursing his hangover.  The next day Hermione arrived, and she had to spell her way out of the tangle of letters that had accumulated in front of the fireplace.  She dusted off her robes and Harry grinned sheepishly at her, leaning against the doorframe that connected the living room with the kitchen.   

"How are you holding up?" She asked, passing him and making her way to the kitchen.  She brushed off a pile of envelopes over the stove and put the kettle on.   

"All right, I guess," Harry shrugged.  "Don't really want to listen to another one of those Howlers though.  One was rather enough..." 

"Y'know they'll explode if you don't open them," she warned. 

"Good, maybe they'll blow up the whole house with me in it," he said morosely.   

She smiled fondly at him, passing him a cup of tea.  "I'm sure your wards will keep the house protected, but you on the other hand..." 

"Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go.  Malfoy's not talking to me, I can't stay at mum's.  I'm sure your husband would just be thrilled if I were to come stay with you." 

"Ugh, please.  Let's not talk about that," she groaned in frustration.  After a minute of silence, she took a sip of her tea and suggested, "What about Grimmauld Place?  You could always go there..." 

And honestly, the thought never really occurred to Harry.  Technically,  the house was still his but he rarely visited.  There was a time he'd visit every month, at least to check up on Kreacher.  But since the elf's death, Harry couldn't bring it in himself to ever go back.  There was no reason to, really—till now. 

"That's a good idea.  I think I will." 

That night found Harry on the doorstep of the ancient house.  The door creaked eerily for him and Harry felt chilled to the bone as he stepped into the entrance hall.  He waved Draco's wand and instantly the candles lined along the walls lit up.  The first thing he noticed was just how worn down the place looked, but granted, that was to be expected for the few years it was not in use.  The walls and furniture were coated with a layer of dust and Harry had to stifle a sneeze as he made his way into the drawing room. 

He lit a fire in the grate and swatted at the couch and a cloud of dust rose off from it.  With the warmth of the fire, he felt slightly better about staying in such a creepy house and soon he fell into an uneasy sleep.  He awoke a couple hours later to the wail of the portrait just outside the room and he groaned, reaching for a grimy pillow and covered his ears.   

When morning arrived Harry was making a feeble attempt to clean the kitchen counters and stove when he felt the buzz of the wards going off.  He tensed, reaching for his wand and made his way to the front door.  Peering through the peephole he was relieved to see it was only Hermione.   

She grinned, walking past him as she entered the house.  She got one look of the place and snorted, "How appropriate.  You going to have trick-or-treaters over tonight?  I'm sure the place will be a big hit!" 

Oh.  Today was Monday.  Halloween. 

"Oh my God, I completely forgot it was Halloween.  Hermione—the dance!  They are wanting me to chaperone!"  Harry said helplessly as they walked into the kitchen together.  He picked up the stained dishrag he was using to wipe the counters with and proceeded to scrub.  "What am I going to do?  I couldn't possibly go now, during this whole mess with the papers.  And, oh God, what if the kids found out about what happened?  What if they are being bullied?  Merlin, I haven't even considered what would happen to them.  Hermione what if—" 

She yanked the cloth out of his hands.  "Relax, Harry!  It's all right!  Really." 

"What, how do you know?" He asked in disbelief. 

"Rose has been writing me.  It's going to be all right," she comforted him.  "She has said the day the article was posted there were lots of snickering.  But that behavior was quickly nipped in the bud when James hexed a bunch of Ravenclaws that were found taunting Scorpius and Al outside of Potions.  Then there's Sebastien Zabini, Head Boy, and he's taken to threatening to deduct points from anyone seen bullying them.  She's said Scorpius and Sebastien grew up together as friends.  So really, Harry, with those two in addition to the faculty, I really think they are going to be alright." 

He let out a breath of relief and leaned against the small clean portion of kitchen counter.  It was nice knowing both Slytherins and Gryffindors were working together to make sure the bullying was kept to a minimum.  "So...do you think I should go tonight?" 

Hermione smirked and lifted her wand.  She waved it and muttered a quick _Scourgify_ and the kitchen counters sparkled clean.  "Honestly, Harry.  Sometimes I think you forget you're a wizard at all."  Then she turned to the stove and cast the charm again.  The caked on grim vanished instantly.    She grinned triumphantly and continued, "And really, I think going would be a good idea.  Rose says those two are getting to be rather unbearable.  They always have their tongues down the other's throat, so perhaps some parental guidance would be helpful." 

"Ugh.  I guess you're right," he said.  He lifted his wand to the ceiling and a moment later the cobwebs that engulfed the chandelier evaporated.  He sighed, looking back down at his friend. 

Hermione stood in front of him, her eyes wide in shock.  She wasn't looking at him, but rather the wand he held in his hands.  "Harry...is that...er, your _old_ wand?"  She asked, her voice raising an octave in alarm. 

"Oh," Harry blushed, running a hand nervously in his hair.  "Yeah, I guess you could say that.  I, um, sort of took it off Malfoy one night when I tried to arrest him.  Then he used mine one night when I had too much to drink.  And we, uh, just never exchanged them back..." 

If at all possible, her eyes became even larger.  "You _what_?"  But before Harry could get another word in she went on, "Wait, since when has Malfoy had that wand?  You told me after the War you'd put it away safely.  You didn't want to use it anymore, for obvious reasons.  So now he had it?  How did he get it?" 

Frowning, Harry slumped into the newly clean kitchen stool.  "I really don't know, actually.  I'm sure the answer to that is somewhere floating in my head in the memories I can't remember."   

"Right," she tilted her head, lost in her thoughts.  She eyed the ebony wand critically and asked, "You said Malfoy has your wand now?  Why wouldn't he rather have his wand back?  Wands don't work as well unless they are your own." 

Shrugging, Harry replied, "Well I haven't really noticed much of a difference.  I don't think he has either.  It feels just like my other wand, really.  It's not really a big deal..." 

"Not a big deal?!" She gasped, "Not much of a difference?!  Harry, do you have any idea what you're saying?!" 

"Yeah, I know what I'm saying, and Hermione it's the truth!  Now what the hell is the matter?  Why are you freaking out?" His eyes searched hers frantically, suddenly feeling very ill at ease. 

She sighed, sitting down on the stool next to him.  "You remember your first wand, right?  How it picked you?" 

"Yeah, Hermione, but that was really only because I had a connection to Voldemort.  He had the other wand with the matching core, it was natural for that wand to pick me...given that, well..."  Harry trailed off, not really wanting to go into much detail.   

"Given that he was a part of your soul," Hermione supplied.  And Harry's eyes widened, and he jerked his head up to meet her eyes in surprise.  "Harry..." 

"So, what you're saying is...we're connected by our souls?"  He gulped nervously, his heart beating heavily within his chest.  "Like... _soulmates_?"  The last word felt heavy on his tongue and it took quite the effort for him to verbalize it.  He just couldn't really believe what he was saying. 

 She only nodded and they sat in a thick silence for a few minutes.  Harry's head was swimming and out of all the things he was beginning to learn about him and Draco this had to be the most absurd of them all.  He knew his parents had been considered soulmates, but for him and Draco to have shared the same sort of bond was just ridiculous.  If this was the case, surely he would have noticed sooner. 

"Y'know, even when I switch wands with Ron on accident, I can always tell a difference," she frowned, picking at a spot on her trousers.  "It's not that we don't love each other...it's just, soulmates are really uncommon.  So many people claim they are, and it's rather hard to tell whether people are truly connected or not." 

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Hermione smiled fondly at him, then stood up and went over to the cupboard and pulled out two mugs.  She conjured some steaming tea for them quickly and handed him a cup.  He took it gratefully and after a few sips he continued, "So what does that even mean?  I mean, I know what it means...from a muggle perspective or whatever, but is there anything different if two wizards end up soulmates?"   

Hermione frowned, finishing her tea.  "It's hard to say, really.  There have only been two recorded cases of magical soulmates.  Like I said, I'm sure there have been plenty others, but with the difficulty to prove such a thing..." 

"Who were the two cases?  Hermione, what happened?" 

Waving her wand over her cup, she filled it again.  "Er well, you know about the first case.  It was your parents, Harry.  People suspected they were soulmates but the fact didn't become completely known till the night of their deaths.  Your mother was the first known person to sacrifice herself in order to save you from the killing curse.  Do you ever wonder why she was able to successfully protect you while others before failed?" 

"Because she loved me?  Her magic protected me.  Hermione, everyone knows that..."  

She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.  "Well yes.  But there has been literature written, further examining that fateful night.  There has been an accepted theory that perhaps it wasn't just her magic but your father's as well.  He was found first, protecting both your mother and yourself from Voldemort.  It was said that his and your mother's magic combined is what saved you.  Only a magical bond as strong as say, soulmates, could prevent something as powerful as the killing curse." 

"Wow," He said, suddenly at a loss for words.  His heart swelled as a new appreciation for his parents started to bloom.  He always knew of the sacrifice his mother made, but knowing his father somehow contributed as well left Harry speechless. 

She smiled sadly then took her cup to the sink and proceeded to wipe it clean.  With her back to Harry she went on, "And the other recorded magical soulmates were Merlin and King Arthur of course." 

Harry sputtered on his tea, the liquid came out in a spurt and ran down the front of his shirt.  "Um, _what_?" He asked in disbelief.  

Laughing, she turned from the sink and faced her friend.  "Oh Harry, there are so many books written on the tale.  I'm rather surprised you never heard of it before..." 

"I've heard of both of them!  I just had no idea they were _soul_ _mates_!  Hermione, that's absurd!"  Harry exclaimed, rising from his seat.  He looked on her with widened eyes, waiting for her to elaborate.   

She waved her hand dismissively at him and said, "I'll lend you the book sometime.  But the general gist of it was after the Battle of Camlann, Arthur was taken to the Isle of Avalon to be on his deathbed.  But shortly after his body vanished.  There was no grave found, nothing.  Legend has it he was entombed in a magical cave for the day he would be called forth by his country once again.  This cave was the same prison that took Merlin's fate.  Even in death, their souls remained connected for all of eternity." 

"Bloody hell," Harry repeated.   

Hermione snorted in amusement and began rifling through her large handbag.  Harry remained speechless as she pulled out the new Prophet.  She slapped it on the kitchen counter and said, "Anyway, that soulmate of yours just made a public statement regarding your blunder on Friday night.  You might want to read it."   

He reached for the paper quickly, glancing at the words that covered the front page.  His heart fell and his frown deepened as he read: 

  _Draco Malfoy met us at the gates of the_ _Manor_ _to publicly state that the photo in question was in fact himself and Harry Potter.  He said, "That night Potter had simply too much to drink and hadn't realized what he was doing.  It was a simple drunken mistake and nothing more."_  

Harry threw the paper angrily across the kitchen and he slammed his cup against the counter.  "Fucking bastard," he growled out.   

Hermione reached over and placed a comforting hand on his arm.  "I'm sure he doesn't mean it," she murmured.  "You have to think the position this puts him in.  If you think people are angry at you for what you did, imagine how furious they are with him..." 

He took in a deep breath and exhaled hard, calming himself.  Hermione had a point, and he hadn't even considered what trouble this all brought to Draco.  He was too busy fending off his own Howlers and avoiding the press.  Malfoy no doubt probably received twice as many angry letters than Harry had.  He knew if there was a way, they'd put all the blame on him and leave Harry as the completely innocent one in the whole mess.  Even though, technically Harry kissed him first.   

"So, got a dress robe for tonight?" Hermione poked him in the side, trying to divert his attention elsewhere.  Honestly, without Hermione here Harry would have likely gone insane.  There was too much floating around his mind for a normal person to take in.  His friend kept him grounded and he was suddenly very thankful for her presence.   

He pushed aside the thoughts of the press, of soulmates, of the marriage bond, of the fight they had before Malfoy left him at the pub, and then moved his mind to tonight and the Halloween Ball.  "No, I haven't," he pouted.  "I don't think it wise to venture off to Diagon Alley right now though.  I honestly don't know what to do." 

She stretched, extending her arms over her head and yawned.  "Well, it's a big house.  I'm sure there's something here you could wear.  We better get searching..." 

Throughout the rest of that morning and afternoon the two of them worked the upper bedrooms, waving their wands and clearing paths of dust out of the way.  The clothing they had found stored away in the lower level bedroom closets were either too small, too worn, or too out of fashion for either of their liking.  Harry was just about to call it quits, too frustrated to even bother with the last room.  They stood at the foot of the final staircase panting and Hermione wiped a dirty hand across her forehead. 

"Well all's left is the master room," she stated.   

Harry sighed tiredly and said, "Perhaps we should just forget the whole thing.  Maybe you could just lend me one of Ron's robes and adjust it to fit." 

Hermione rolled her eyes and took the steps up to the room.  "It's just one more room, honestly.  We'll go in and have a quick look and then figure out what to do from there." 

Reluctantly Harry followed after her.  He knew it was a waste.  It had been decades since he stepped into this room.  He knew what was in there.  It was the room Buckbeak had.  There were Hippogryph feathers and claw marks all over the furniture and the room had smelled like a barn the last time Harry had been up here.  He knew it was a waste of time, but either way he trailed after his friend.   

They stepped inside the room and Harry's jaw dropped to the floor in astonishment.  There was no way this could be the same room he remembered.  A new bed was propped against the middle of the wall, large and luxurious with a draping canopy that looked so inviting.  There were candles intimately lining all around the perimeter and Hermione lit them all with a flick of her wand.  The room glowed warmly and for the first time since he stepped foot in the house he felt at home. 

Hermione had left Harry's side and hurriedly rushed off to the walk in closet.  Harry heard her gasp from across the room.  "Oh Harry!" She called out urgently.  "Come here!  Quick!"  He bolted over to her and took in the sight she was gesturing wildly at.  The closet was stuffed with clothes of all types, muggle and wizard alike.  There was such a wide variety of colors and fabrics, Harry was instantly reminded of that fancy clothing store he visited in France.   

She yanked on a few robes and pulled them out, inspecting the label.  "I don't believe it," she breathed out in excitement.  "Not only is it your size, but these are vintage.  Harry this designer has stopped making robes over thirty years ago.  And it looks like...yes," her eyes trailed over the next few robes before she spoke again, "You have his whole last collection." 

Harry gaped at her, tugging on the garments out of her hands.  He inspected them carefully not really sure of anything really.  "If these are really thirty years old...perhaps they are a little outdated?" 

"Outdated?" Wailed Hermione, appalled.  "These are _classics_  Harry.  When they were first introduced these robes went for thousands.  Now thirty years later, you could easily sell the whole collection for probably a million galleons.  They are limited edition and timeless!  You aren't going to find another set of robes like that in all of the world!"   

He felt lightheaded all of a sudden.  He slumped on the bed and pulled one of the robes with him.  He caressed the fine material in wonder.  Hermione dug deeper into the closet in complete fascination.  He heard her going through the clothes in a frenzy and suddenly she paused in her search.  "Harry..." 

"Hmm?" He asked from the bed.  He had laid down on the bed now, suddenly exhausted from their search.  The bed felt rather nice and he was on the edge of falling asleep. 

"There's two sizes in here," she said curiously.  Harry rose his head up from the pillows and eyed her.  She continued, "This side of the closet all fits you however," she turned to the opposite side, "This side the clothes are slightly longer in length, yet a few inches smaller around the waist.  It's almost as if..." 

He felt his stomach lurch as he put two and two together.  It suddenly seemed to all add up and it was all rather simple.  The fancy clothes, the incredible bed, the candles, and he could smell something distinctly familiar amongst the pillows and bed sheets.  He had been here before...those clothes were his.  And... 

"That side's Draco's," Harry said without a doubt in his mind.  Even though he couldn't remember it, he knew it to be true.   

She lifted her head to meet his eyes and she smiled sadly at him.  "We really need to look at a way of getting your memory back," she suggested.  Then she turned her attention back to the closet and Harry couldn't agree more with that thought. 

Night approached and Hermione helped him get ready.  They picked out one of the _classics_ Hermione was so adamant on and Harry had to agree the cut of the robe did wonders to the shape of his body.  They speculated together of how him and Draco must have been together in the past and it felt so good to be able to talk freely with her about it.  She never once offered a negative comment and was rather encouraging.  It briefly made him forget about the Prophet fiasco and he was in better spirits as he made his way to the Floo. 

"Oh and Harry?" Hermione called after him before he left.   

He turned, smiling at her.  "Yeah?" 

"Mind checking the library while you are there?" She asked, her eyes warm. 

Harry rolled his eyes at her and said, "Sure, what do you want?"   

She fwapped him playfully on the arm, "Not for me, you idiot.  For you.  I'm sure there's at least one book there regarding the _foedus_ _._ See what you can find, all right?"  

"Oh of course," Harry nodded.  Then without thinking he took the few steps towards her and embraced her tightly.  "Thanks...for everything," he whispered down to her.   

Hermione pulled away after a minute, her eyes twinkling.  "Get going, you dolt.  You've got a long evening of breaking up horny teenagers ahead of you."  Harry laughed and kissed the top of her head before he parted ways.  The last thing he saw through the Floo was her waving cheerfully back at him.     

At Hogwarts, Harry nervously tugged on his hair and stood in front of the grand doors to the Great Hall.  Music could be heard even from the corridor and Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  With the familiar setting he was instantly reminded of his own Yule Ball experience, and oh how atrocious that whole affair was.  He hoped he wouldn't be expected to dance at this ball though.  He had made enough of a fool of himself on Friday, he really didn't want to add insult to injury. 

Reluctantly he opened the doors and several heads craned to get a look of him.  Students widened their eyes in alarm, but they soon lost interest as a high tempo song started to play and they scrambled to the dance floor hurriedly.  Harry shook his head, chuckling, and made his way to the snack and beverage table.   

There was only one other person standing by the refreshments.  It was a woman wearing an elegant blue dress and her long cascading brown curls flowed to the small of her back.  She turned and her sparkling green eyes met Harry's own. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed, surprised. 

"Astoria!" Gasped out Harry, his throat suddenly dry.  He braced for the inevitable, waiting for the rant that was sure to follow.  No doubt she had heard of what had happened over the weekend, and surely she couldn't have been pleased with what transpired. 

Instead, she smiled and kissed his cheek in greeting.  "Would you like a drink?" She offered, her hand still resting upon the punch bowl. 

"Merlin yes," Harry said nervously.   

Giggling, she handed him a small plastic cup filled to the brim.  She watched him take a sip and continued, "No tequila I'm afraid.  I'm honestly slightly disappointed no kid has tried to spike it yet." 

Harry let out a small laugh, "Probably a good thing, really.  Tequila and me results in horrible things happening, after all..."  He trailed off and silently wanted to hit himself for bringing up the whole thing.  What was wrong with him? 

"Yes indeed," she smirked.  Then without a word she slipped her hand through his arm and tugged him closer to the dance floor.  They stood at the edge of the group of students, together searching for their sons.  A short while later they spotted them towards the center, dancing enthusiastically to the beat. 

A slower song started to play and the kids broke up into couples.  Albus grabbed a hold of the front of Scorpius's robes and pulled him in for a deep kiss.  They lazily danced to the music, their mouths not separating for even a minute.  Harry felt the familiar flush race up his neck and he turned away from them and his eyes met Astoria's. 

She flashed a knowing grin and lifted her glass to his, "Like father, like son," she toasted.  Harry gaped at her for a second but her eyes on his glass caused him to bring it to his lips and quickly down the remains.  He coughed as the liquid went down hard.  She laughed, pulling him to the dance floor.  "Come on you idiot.  Dance with me." 

And so, Harry found himself dancing at Hogwarts for the second time in his life.  This time, he was surprised to find out, he had a lot more fun. 


	17. Marriage Contracts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Hogwarts, Harry discovers the boys in a classroom. He finds a book about marriage contracts. Hermione is insightful like always.

The dance was to conclude at around midnight and so far all of the students seemed to be behaving themselves much to Harry's relief.  However at a quarter till Harry watched out of the corner of his eye his son running off with Scorpius.  Hand in hand they bolted for the doors and Harry abandoned his station on the west side of the room and followed after them.  As soon as he stepped out into the hall he saw them disappear around a corner, heading for the dungeons.  He quickly trailed after them, but he made sure to keep his steps quiet.  He wanted to use the element of surprise as a benefit to catch them at whatever they were planning. 

Corridor after corridor and Harry was starting to give up on his hunt.  It appeared they were only making their way back to the common room and if they wanted to do whatever in their own rooms at least they wouldn't get caught and they would have privacy, given the rest of the school was still in the Great Hall.  However when Harry turned down the next hallway he noticed the door to the Potion's classroom was ajar.   

Intrigued, he tiptoed his way to halt just before the door.  He strained to hear any movements and sure enough he could make out his son's voice from the room.   

"So...what do you think?" He had said. 

"I think you're bloody brilliant," Harry heard Scorpius say.   "And my mother has impeccable taste because that robe has been driving me crazy all evening.  I wanted to take you right on the dance floor—too bad we had our parents watching," he chuckled.  There was a shuffling of footsteps and then a small thump. 

A moan was heard and Harry had just about heard enough.  Thankfully his son had the sense to say, "Merlin, hold on.  How about we finish this now and us later?" 

"Why not both at the same time?" Scorpius suggested and Harry flushed.  There was the sound of a robe being taken off and thrown rather hurriedly.  Another thump and Albus had gasped.  Harry figured now was the time to make his presence known before things got too heated. 

He cleared his throat and walked into the room.  Sure enough,  Scorpius had pinned Al to a table and was working the front of his trousers.  Albus had turned a cherry red upon seeing his father and started to sputter uncontrollably.  "D-DAD!" He wailed.   

Scorpius snorted from behind and slowly removed his hand and backed away.  "Good job, Harry.  I guess your job as chaperone has proved useful after all."  He crossed his arms, smirking in amusement.  

Harry tried to push aside the memories of younger Draco looking very much like Scorpius and focus his attention at the scene in front of him.  "You know better than to be doing this...especially in a classroom, no less.  Is this what has caused you guys to lose so many house points?  Albus I thought you were smarter than that..." 

"Oh don't blame him," Scorpius said matter-of-factly.  "It's the Malfoy charm, after all.  It's hard to resist.  I'm sure you know all about that, don't you Harry?"    

"Scorp, shut up," hissed Albus. 

Suppressing his own blush at the dig Harry replied, "Be that as it may, your father and I are grown adults and you two are still underage.  I'm not saying you can't have sex because that'd be an unrealistic demand but please could you keep it to your room?  There have been numerous complaints and Draco's been furious, please don't make it worse." 

"All right, all right."  "Yes dad."  They both said at the same time.  Harry gave them a small smile then looked down at the table in front of them.  In the center was a cauldron bubbling a muddy brown color.  Harry had taken that potion more than enough times to know instantly what it was. 

Still he asked, "What's that?" 

Albus gulped nervously and Scorpius avoided his eyes and answered, "Oh nothing.  Out of classroom project..." 

Snorting he leaned over the cauldron and gave it a quick sniff.  Oh yes.  No doubt.  "And what would two fifteen year old boys do with a polyjuice potion?  What are you guys planning?" 

"Er...well," Albus muttered as he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. 

"We were just going to change into each other," Scorpius said almost boredly.  "We didn't know for sure if it'd work and we figured to test it out we'd just try to change into each other.  I have always wondered what it was like kissing me..." 

Harry let out a small laugh and shook his head.  He eyed his son critically who remained pretty quiet.  "Is this true, son?" 

His green eyes moved up from the table to look at his father.  Without any hesitation he said clearly, "Yes dad."  And from the years Harry had with him he knew that his son was telling the truth.   

"Well if that's all you're using it for, then it's fine.  I just don't want to get any more letters, all right?  No more rule breaking and no more losing house points.  Stay on top of your work and stay out of trouble."  Both boys nodded in understanding and Harry turned his attention back to the cauldron.  He grabbed an empty vial that was nearby and proceeded to pour a sample from the pot.  "And congratulations.  You've successfully brewed Polyjuice.  I'm taking a sample for myself...might prove useful what with the press still on my tail and all." 

Both boys gaped at him and he smiled.  "Have a good night kids," he turned and made his way to the door of the classroom.  Before leaving he said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do.  Er, and don't do anything I have done either..." 

Scorpius chuckled, "So that's it?  You're just going to leave us here with Polyjuice potion?  You're the worst chaperone ever!" 

"Oh Scorpius, I can't trust you for a second.  But I know Al and I know he wouldn't do anything stupid.  After I leave here you're going to put away your potion and go back to your room and continue whatever there.  So have a goodnight," Harry waved, his eyes twinkling in amusement.  The last thing he saw before leaving the classroom was Scorpius gaping and Albus returning his smile. 

Out in the hall he lingered and sure enough Scorpius was heard saying, "So where were we?"   

Harry rolled his eyes but was pleased when Albus said, "Oh stop.  We're packing up the potion and going to bed."  He bit his lip to muffle a laugh and continued his journey through the castle.  Afterall,  he still needed to visit the library while he was here. 

It was just like his first year at Hogwarts again.  Only this time he wasn't a student sneaking out of Gryffindor tower to go to the library in the middle of the night, he was an adult and crawling out of the dungeons.  There were plenty of dark secluded corners in the dungeons, which made it all the more easy.  Frankly Harry was rather surprised he hadn't run into any young couples along his way.  But, either way,  Harry paused and retrieved his invisibility cloak out of his pocket.  Waving Draco's wand along the small bundle it enlarged to normal size.  Harry wrapped it around his shoulders and took off. 

He could have done this the easy way.  He could have simply _asked_ to see any books relating to the subject of marriage bonds.  But with his mind on so many other things Harry neglected to write Madam Pince.  Then when he arrived at Hogwarts it was already getting to be too late and he was sure she had already went to sleep by now.  He really didn't feel like dealing with her wrath and certainly didn't want to wake her up. 

The room was just as dusty and smelled of parchment, just like it always had.  He came to a stop at a table and held his wand steady.  Well, here goes nothing, he thought.  " _Accio_ matrimonium foedus books!"  He made to enunciate clearly, while at the same time controlling his volume to be just barely above a whisper.  Last thing he needed was Peeves lurking about and revealing his location. 

Harry waited.  Nothing happened.  He tried again, " _Accio_ foedus books!" 

This proved successful, or at least he thought.  Three books flew to the table with a loud thunk and he winced from the noise.  He didn't dare move till he made sure the coast was clear.  When he peered at the selection however, he frowned.  Titles read _Foedus Cassianum, The Foedus Iniquum of Rome, and Foedus Pacificum._ None of these books seemed to be what he was looking for, and he sighed in disappointment. 

Perhaps his summoning charm would only retrieve books that were titled with what he specified.  Honestly, Harry never practiced the art of summoning particular books—why bother when Hermione could probably do it wandless by now?  Or maybe what he was looking for wasn't a full book on the matrimonium foedus, but just marriage contracts in general?  Marriage customs?  He leaned against the table and bit his lip thoughtfully and lifted the wand once more.  " _Accio_ marriage contract book!" 

Thunk.  One tome landed atop the rest, this one not nearly as aged as the others.  The title was scrawled in shiny gold and read, "So you want to tie the knot?  An introductory guide to Pureblood marriage contracts."  Harry breathed a sigh of relief, not believing his luck.  He held the book to his chest and quickly snuck out of there. 

He returned to Grimmauld Place shortly thereafter, and sprawled out in the study by the fireplace.  Even though it was rather late, Harry couldn't sleep even if he tried.  He felt like he had the answers all here, and if he could just keep awake long enough he could solve it.  He rubbed his eyes and read the first page: 

_So you want to tie the knot?  Congratulations!_ _However,  there_ _are a few things you need to know before you jump right to it.  Are you a pureblood?  Is your partner?  Believe it or not, but tradition holds high value in a pureblood marriage.  You don't want to do or say the wrong thing, now do you?_  

Harry yawned, skimming through a bit more of the text.  He found the next bit of information to be interesting. 

_Before you ask your partner, you need to have picked the appropriate marriage bands.  Rings are the most traditional symbol for a marriage and it is also true of the Magical World.  Unlike Muggles who seem to favor diamonds, witches and wizards prefer certain colored gemstones to reflect their magical aura.  If you are unsure of your aura color or that of your partner, please visit a Seer._  

Snorting at that last bit, he continued to read: 

_Another thing one must consider when marrying a Pureblood is any possible family heirlooms.  Family is of the utmost importance to purebloods (particularly if they plan to continue their lineage) and more often than not rings are transferred from one generation to the next.  If this is your situation I urge you to contact the head of house of your intended and request the family bands._  

He wondered whether Draco and Astoria had traditional bands.  Honestly, he never paid much attention to that and was more focused on other things regarding the man.  Now he was more than curious.  If they hadn't went about traditionally could that make their bond less strong?  What about a forced marriage that was clearly not traditional at all?  It didn't even seem that Draco even proposed, stating that they were contracted to marry as kids and he hadn't a say about it in the slightest.  Maybe there was hope yet. 

Maybe if Harry went the proper way of asking Draco, he could break their contract.  Surely a marriage proposal performed the traditional way could be more powerful than the fucked up version Lucius threw on them.  And if somehow that worked and he was bonded to Draco, perhaps it would nullify the existing marriage between him and Astoria.   

Well,  it was certainly worth considering... 

Stifling a yawn, he stood up from the armchair by the fire.  He waved his wand at the flames and they died down.  Carrying the book with him upstairs, he set it on the nightstand by his bed.  Harry climbed into the large master bed and sighed.  He ran his hands through the silk sheets, imagining a time when Draco shared this bed with him.  The last image Harry had before sleep took him was Draco's softly pale hair sprawled across his pillow.  

* * *

"One would say what a pleasant surprise it is to see you, Mr. Potter.  I however, simply knew you would be back.  Please, take a seat—take a seat," Professor Trelawney gestured at the empty seat across from her.  The table was covered with a lacey linen, a crystal ball right in the middle.  Harry tried to keep a straight face as he sat down. 

"Hmmm, yes.  Interesting, yes indeed," she muttered, her eyes staring intently at the glowing ball.  Harry sat patiently and a few moments passed in silence as she hummed.  Breathing in deeply he took in the strong aroma of the incense that clouded the divination classroom.  For some reason it kept him at ease as she looked with her "Inner Eye." 

"You feel pain, oh yes.  And carry quite a burden, don't you?" She said thoughtfully, not once looking up. 

"Well being a war hero kind of does that," he cut in smartly. Trelawney didn't notice the snark and continued reading her ball. 

A moment passed till she broke the silence with a large gasp.  "Mr. Potter!  Look!" She pointed at the ball.  He could vaguely see the air within changing to a darker color, instead of mist it looked more like a smoky fog now.  "Oh no, not good at all.  I see a tortuous end for the one you hold dear.  A servant of the Dark Lord seeks his revenge, and he shall get it." 

"Is it the Grim?" Harry asked, the words dripping with sarcasm. 

She didn't hear him.  Her bug eyes bulged before she jerked her head away from the crystal ball, out of breath.  Harry thought her acting had improved since the last time he had a reading.  He was trying to pinpoint the last time he visited her when she spoke again. 

"The boy who lived...and the boy who had no choice."  Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart stalled.  Professor Trelawney clenched her eyes shut, wincing.  "Each one fated to save the other.  But this time...oh yes.  He will die, Harry Potter!"  Her eyes gaped open, meeting Harry's gaze at once.  "Murdered, with pain deep within.  He knows pain, and has for many years now.  He will take that pain with him in death." 

On the edge of his seat, Harry gaped at her.  "What?  No!  How can I save him?" He asked desperately, looking from the ball back to her. 

"Not this time..." She grunted.  Then Professor Trelawney shuddered and her glassy eyes came back into focus.  She looked sadly at Harry.  "My dear, dark times are returning.  Keep a close eye." 

He was about to argue, trying to get more information out of her.  But a blinding light drew him out and when Harry opened his eyes again, the scene was gone.  He was laying back in his bed, the curtains drawn back and the morning sun peering through.  He closed his eyes and could still remember everything perfectly. 

It was just a dream, then.  Not a memory.  He breathed a sigh of relief. 

The days passed as Harry delved further into the book and his research.  Hermione would visit now and then to help, either with the reading or repair of the house.  With both their efforts the house was slowly turning to look more like a home.  Cobwebs disappeared,  dust evaporated and in its place were sparkling cabinets, glossy tables, and overstuffed chairs that no longer groaned under just the smallest of weight. 

It was Thursday when Harry found a box of paperwork underneath one of the beds off the second floor.  He blew the dust off the top of it before opening it.  Inside were tax documents, appraisals, various birth and death certificates, but what caught Harry's attention above all else was a piece of parchment that was flagged with a silver ribbon.  He tugged and pulled out the document.  It was Sirius's will. 

Scanning the parchment, he ran his thumb fondly over Sirius's name.  He'd never seen the hard copy of the will, and only ever had it read to him and only the one time.  He read over it briefly, noting that yes, Harry owned all of Grimmauld Place and all the contents within.  It specifically listed Kreacher and he frowned in remembrance.  He wondered if Draco had lived there with him and why Kreacher never seemed to mention it before.  Perhaps it was deeply ingrained to not ask any questions in regards to wizards. 

Either way, Harry's mind was brought back to the parchment in his hand.  He was just about to put it back in the box when something caught his eye.  At the bottom of the list of property granted to Harry was a list of bank vaults at Gringotts.  Harry was familiar with the first vault, given that it held the Black's fortune—something he thought was better left alone.  But there was a second vault listed and Harry was sure by the number it was of a higher security.  Intrigued, he stood up from the bedroom and called for Hermione. 

They met in the hallway and she clutched the marriage contract book close to her chest.  "Yes, Harry?"  Showing her the letter, she couldn't seem to find anything out of place or unusual.  "What's wrong?  I don't get it," she said a moment later. 

"I have another Black vault.  I wasn't aware of such a thing." 

"Oh neat," she said, not really phased by the information.  Instead she quickly changed the subject.  "So it says here in the book that after you get the rings you have to perform a magical ritual with an element of the Earth nearby.  It gave an example of a Pureblood marrying a woman that was part mermaid, and their ceremony was held by the ocean.  You don't think Astoria or Malfoy have done anything like that, have you?" 

"No but...Hermione, aren't you the least bit curious?" Harry asked, guiding the conversation back to the will in his hands. 

"Hmm?"  

"It's gotta be deeper in Gringotts...I just have the strangest feeling that something is hiding there.  I wonder if maybe tomorrow..." 

"Harry," Hermione quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm.  "You couldn't possibly go out just yet.  It's not even been a week since the article..." 

Huffing in aggravation, he walked past her and stomped down the stairs to the first floor study.  He threw the parchment on a desk and crossed his arms.  Hermione had followed in after him without a word.  Harry slumped in his chair and tangled his hands in his hair.  It was awhile before he spoke, but when he did he said, "I just feel like we are going in circles." 

"Harry..." 

"That book hasn't helped us figure anything out, except how I should bloody propose to the prick.  And I can't even do that because he's still married, won't talk to me, can't touch me.  I'm just so fucking tired of it all.  I just want to see him, I want to be done with all of this.  I want to take him home, to our bed—to get dressed in our fancy clothes upstairs.  I just don't know how much longer I can take this..." 

"It's going to be all right," she said soothingly. 

"Maybe, maybe not.  I guess I wouldn't be so bothered if I could at least talk to him.  I mean if I could just ask him about all this stuff.  Malfoy did you and your wife get traditional marriage bands?   Did you propose by a lake during a magical ritual?  It would just make this so much easier. But he's not talking to me again—and here I am cooped up in this house with only you as company.  Er, and no offense Hermione.  I love you, I just feel like I'm going a little bit crazy here." 

"I've got an idea," Hermione perked up, now turning to search through her oversized purse. 

"Wonderful," Harry breathed in relief.   

She pulled out a stack of parchment and slammed it on the desk in front of him.  Harry caught sight of the first words and knew what it was at once.  "A divorce settlement," he said in shock.  "Is this...mine?" 

Frowning, she pulled out the chair across from him.  "Harry, while I'm not here or at work I'm at home or mum's.  I've been hearing all about this from Ginny's side too.  She thinks if you are going to just up and leave that it should be official.  Isn't that what you want?" 

Biting his lip, Harry considered his options.  He did love Ginny, he did.  He loved Draco too, or at least strongly felt something for him in the past.  What he knew was the feelings he has for Draco couldn't even compare to what he felt for Ginny.   

Ginny was a nice comfort, safe.  Draco was anything but.  It was probably a good thing Ginny traveled a lot with her job, because the more Harry thought of it he wasn't so sure they would still be together if he had to see her all the time.  When she would be home she'd usually lock herself up in her study while he read over case files in the dining room.  She would go do this, he would go do that and rarely did they do things as a couple much anymore.   

And this was all before Draco Malfoy stepped into the picture.  Then once that happened, it certainly complicated things.  But it also made one thing much clearer.  He loved Ginny, but he didn't want to stay married to her.  He wanted someone else—someone that could challenge him, someone that would fight with him and for him.  And Merlin, he was in too deep now to change his mind. 

He pulled the stack of papers towards himself and read over the agreement.  It was left blank and Harry frowned, wondering what that could possibly mean.  Did Ginny just expect him to come up with the terms of their divorce?  Honestly Harry was surprised she wasn't demanding anything from him for the way he royally screwed this all up.  "Hermione...there's nothing here." 

Nodding, a brown curl came out of her tight bun pinned to her head.  She said softly, "Ginny is ready to talk to you about that.  She wants to talk to you before anything is set in stone—about custody, property...you know." 

"Are you sure she's ready to see me again?" He asked, unsure.  He set the papers down and eyed Hermione carefully. 

Sighing, Hermione tucked her strand of hair behind her ear.  "Well, of course it's not been easy.  Especially after that article was released at the very paper she works for.  It's been a nightmare, honestly.  But...she really does love you.  I think it's best if this gets handled so she can move on with her life and start fresh.  It's kind of hard for her to think of much else while you two sit in limbo." 

Taking a few sharp breaths, Harry debated what was next.  "Well...if you think she can handle herself around me, I'll meet her at home.  Perhaps in about a week—surely the Howlers would have died down by then." 

"Wonderful, I'll let her know."  Standing from her chair, Hermione swung her bag around her shoulders and was preparing to leave. 

Before she could get to the door Harry called, "Hey and just how do you think this is going to help my stir crazy situation here?" 

Turning back to her friend she snorted in amusement.  "Honestly, Harry...what better way to let Malfoy know you're serious about him than following through on your own divorce?  You take that first step, I can almost gurantee he'll start wanting to talk to you again.  He needs to see your own level of commitment towards him.  It'll happen—just trust me." 

"Boy, I sure hope you're right Hermione.  After all you didn't see how pissed he was when I kissed him in public like that..." 

"Harry, I'm almost always right, remember?" She beamed and Harry laughed.  "Besides, you're always pissing him off.  I'd be more worried when you start making him happy.  I can picture mad-Malfoy quite easily—but happy?  Does he even know how to smile?  I'm sure it'd look more like an uncomfortable grimace..." 

Laughing he stood up from his chair and came over and hugged her.  "Nah, he knows how to smile.  I just think it's been a really long time since he had a reason to." 

"It'll happen again, just wait and see." She said softly before she left.  Harry hoped she really was right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, huge apologies on this one. I guess I've had a bad case of writer's block. It's so infuriating because I have it in my head how this story ends, but just getting the words up on the screen has been a bit of a struggle. I hope this chapter reads well, and isn't too boring. There are so many things that have yet to happen before we reach the climax, and I feel once I build up to that moment it'll be all downhill from there. In other news, I think I'm going to up the rating on this story. The previous sexual encounters were right on the edge of M and E rating and I think future events are going to put it in the E category. So anyway, hope you enjoyed. Please leave a comment if you like something or didn't like something. I'm always curious how others take it.


	18. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's divorced. Draco stops by for a visit.

The week before Harry met up with Ginny he had been pretty busy with his nose in the marriage contract book.  He had learnt quite a bit of Pureblood traditions, so much in fact that he was starting to get irritated that the book hadn't even mentioned the actual "contract" part yet.  It went into surprising detail about the clothes one should wear, what certain flowers meant and Harry was just about ready to chuck the thing out the window. 

He flipped a few more pages roughly and then his eyes caught sight of the word _foedus_.  His heart leapt and he leaned close, eagerly going over the material. 

_By far the most controversial Pureblood marriage contract is that of the matromonium foedus.  An ancient ritual performed by the most elite of witches and wizards, this contract binds a couple till death.  Even if their status has changed by Wizard Law and they are no longer married, the contract will still remain.  The bond is unbreakable and though many have tried to remove ties from the foedus, none have proved successful.  It is truly a contract for death till they part.  If you are considering such a union, please think seriously before making the commitment.  It is an irreversible decision._  

_You may ask how a contract like that can remain if the law says you are no longer married._ _Well, magic_ _plays a key role.  People have reported immense pain, burns, heart attacks, seizures, if they go against the will of the_ _foedus_ _.  This is to insure fidelity._  

_But what's most curious about such injuries is that they escalate over time, and that they get more severe by prolonged exposure.  Reports have shown it is possible to have sexual encounters with someone under a foedus contract, but the more a person (other than their spouse) visits the riskier it can be.  Close friends of either person under the foedus must_ _exercise_ _caution as well, because even the smallest of friendly gestures and touches could result in an injury if in the wrong context._  

_These are but a few_ _reasons_ _this particular bond is so controversial._ _However, even_ _if after reading all of these things you are still_ _interested_ _in such a contract please consult an appointed pre-_ _marital_ _counselor.  In order to even qualify for such a contract requires Ministry approval according to the Ministerial Decree Number 127._  

Harry sighed, having concluded his reading on that particular passage.  For some reason he had no doubt in his mind that the Malfoys didn't get their son's marriage properly approved by Ministry standards.  No one in their right mind would have allowed something like this to have taken form.  But now here it was, and Harry had never felt hate of this magnitude before. 

Lucius Malfoy erased his memory, forced a marriage on his son illegally.  And now Harry was going to reopen his case.  There was no debating it.  He just needed to find the bastard first. 

Which also required returning to work and looking through his file.  He groaned,  dreading the pile of papers he'd surely have to go over once he came back.  He wasn't really ready to spend all day in his office doing that.  Then there was the little issue that he'd probably run into Ron, and Harry was really trying not to think too much on that either. 

Hermione would mention Ron occasionally with just a general, "Oh, you know how he is, Harry."  And sadly, Harry knew exactly what she meant by that. No doubt he was still angry, furious, and Hermione just wanted to forget the whole thing with him.  At least he hadn't gone so far as to have her choose between the two of them, or Harry and Ginny for that matter.  Hermione remained perfectly neutral about all of it.  She understood Ginny's grief, Ron's frustration, and of course Harry's desperation.  Harry just hoped she wouldn't go crazy by the end, being tugged in three different directions.  But certainly if anyone could do it, it would be Hermione. 

"I'm thinking about going back to work," Harry casually told her one afternoon over tea. 

She paused, her cup just a few inches from her lips.  "Oh?"  She arched her finely shaped eyebrow and tilted her head.  "You really think that's a great idea right now?  Shacklebolt said--" 

"Yes, yes.  I know what he said," Harry interrupted.  He set his own cup down on the antique coffee table that they finally managed to polish just the right way.  "It's not like I want to start up my daily routine again.  I kind of just want to research Lucius Malfoy's case again.  I think I have enough evidence against him to bring him in for questioning." 

"Hmmm," she took a sip, thinking.  "And what does Draco think about all this?" 

Harry blanched slightly.  "Er, well.  I haven't really talked to him about it yet." 

"Isn't he sick or something?  Ron mentioned a muggle mental institution..."  

"I don't know, honestly.  The file said his family requested those arrangements.  Kind of odd, if you ask me." 

"Well, maybe he really is in pretty bad shape.  Perhaps they realized Lucius Malfoy was so far gone there was no hope for even magic to cure him.  I know it may seem strange to you, Harry, but it's actually fairly common.  Muggles may not have the best treatment available compared to modern magical facilities, but they have a wider choice of institutions.  Plus anyone who is well known in the magical world may prefer to get away—to start fresh." 

"Yeah maybe," Harry replied, his thoughts still not settled.  For some reason he didn't think he could put it to rest till he went and visited the bastard himself. 

Knowing Harry all too well, Hermione mentioned a second later, "Well if you'd like I could talk to Shacklebolt and see if I can get a copy of the file.  I'm sure he'd grant me clearance in your division without much debate." 

His face broke out into a grin.  "Thanks, Hermione." 

 

 It was a good thing Harry had spent so much time cleaning Grimmauld Place, because when he returned home he put his spells to good use.  The floors and furniture surfaces were covered with ash from the aftermath of the explosion of his Howlers.  Normally this would have dismayed Harry,  and he would have more than likely considered having their meeting elsewhere.  However, he gave it a try and was able to go through each room and have them clean within a matter of minutes.  He smiled,  knowing that if he hadn't practiced his cleaning charms so thoroughly lately, it could have easily taken him twice as long. 

After that was all said and done, Harry kept busy by making a pot of tea and flipping through one of their Quidditch monthly subscriptions.  But as the clock chimed the hour in the living room, Harry's stomach lurched in anticipation.  He was nervous for a variety of reasons—what would she say?  What would he say?  Would she yell at him?  Would she cry?  Would Harry?  Honestly the unknown of it stressed him out more than anything else. 

Five minutes passed in stretched silence, Harry standing by the fireplace and watching the clock above the mantle.  Then there was the whoosh of the Floo and Harry stepped back instinctually.  Ginny was wearing a long overcoat and brushed the soot off her shoulders before she even lifted her head to meet Harry's.  When she did, Harry bit his lip in worry. 

She had dark circles under her eyes.  Her hair was in disarray, her clothes rumpled.  There was only one other time Ginny Potter-Weasley ever looked so much like a mess, and that was after the kids were born.  It was obvious she wasn't sleeping well and this was truly wrecking her, and Harry felt awful.  He really did. 

Her eyes broke contact with his and she walked past him into the kitchen.  She laid a file on the table and took a seat.  Harry followed in after her without a word.  Flipping open the paperwork, they sat in a tense silence for a minute.  He didn't know what to say and he was afraid anything he did say wasn't going to help matters.   

Thankfully, eventually she spoke.  "Have you thought about your conditions?  Like with the house?  The kids?"  Her voice was slightly shaky and she wasn't looking Harry in the eyes.  She looked almost as if she was going to cry. 

Without thinking, Harry reached across for her hand.  Automatically she tried to tug it back but Harry held on.  "Ginny...I know this isn't easy.  I know I haven't been fair to you, and you certainly don't deserve all that's happened.  But please,  hear me out, ok?  I still love you, I still love our family.  I miss you.  I miss Ron.  I miss Molly and Arthur and everyone else.  I don't want to lose you all over this.  What happened with me...well, I really couldn't control it." 

"And now that I'm taking time to analyze and learn more about the situation, I'm starting to understand other things.  When I came back to you, that year...you never wondered where I went.  You took me back with open arms, no questions asked.  Almost like you were expected to.  But Ginny, you could have told me no.  You could have said let's wait and see how it goes, or that you're not sure anymore.  You could have told me kids could wait, while you focus on your career.  I'd try to understand..." 

"But it's almost like you didn't want to tell me no.  You gave me everything I ever wanted—a wonderful house, great kids, and you.  As a teenager I really did believe we were supposed to be together.  I mean,  it just made sense, didn't it?  We get married and then I'm an official Weasley after all.  It was perfect."  Harry took a moment to take a breath, and looked over at Ginny's face.  She had her head tilted forward, staring at the divorce papers on the table.  Tears were streaming down her face.  Harry let go of her hand to run his thumb along her cheek. 

"Ginny, words can't express how truly sorry I am about all this.  But I think you and I both know that even without the dreams, memory loss—if we would have kept going the way we were, well.  I think we'd still end up here.  Without the kids here and both of us pulled in separate directions at our jobs, it just feels...well, empty.  I don't want that...and I don't want that for you." 

He watched as her tears started to slowly stop, not once daring to leave her side till she had calmed down.  Her nose was just about as red as her hair and she started to sniffle, when Harry reached across the table for a napkin for her.  After she finished blowing her nose, she took a shaky gasp and then said, "Merlin, that was...hard to hear.  Could you..give me a moment?" 

Nodding, Harry rose from the table and turned away from her to make them some tea.  He heard her stand up and make her way to the bathroom.  As she left the room, Harry leaned against the counter heavily and took a deep breath himself.  He felt relief for having said what he had.  He had been waiting to have this conversation with her for awhile now, but she never once wanted to give him the opportunity.  He'd owe Hermione big time if she was behind all of this, if she convinced her to come talk to him. 

The teapot whistled, Harry jumped—and then a snort of amusement was heard in the doorway.  Turning he saw that Ginny stood there with her too red nose and her lips stifling a smile.  Harry grinned sheepishly and asked, "Would you like some tea?" 

"Tea sounds great," she agreed, her eyes finally coming up to meet his.  And with the look she gave him,  Harry knew things were going to be all right after all.   

 

That night, they had settled the divorce.  With the children they were able to secure a Floo meeting with them and talk about custody.  Everyone agreed to joint custody of both Lily and Albus, rotating each major holiday and over the summer bi-monthly at both parent's houses.  James needn't be mentioned in the agreement given his age.  Then there was the issue of the house and Harry wouldn't have it any other way.  He offered for her to take it, to her surprise.  But with Grimmauld Place up and running,  he really didn't need the extra home.  All in all, it went surprisingly better than Harry thought and the next day Ginny agreed to file it.  And sure enough, word traveled fast because the evening Prophet posted all the interesting details right across the front page. 

In a way, it was sort of good that the papers had gotten wind of him and Draco together.  It made this article paint him as the horrible cheating husband, and Ginny the perfect faithful wife that deserved better.  Her reputation wouldn't be tarnished by this, and instead Harry had a feeling people would come from all over to voice their support for her.  Perhaps she'd even get an increase in readership for her columns and wouldn't that be nice?  Harry truly did want what was best for her, and if the general public supported her over Harry than maybe this transition wouldn't be so awful for her.   

Harry's reputation was thoroughly trashed, though.  But honestly, he didn't care.  It couldn't get much worse than it already was and frankly the one person that he cared about more than anything still wasn't talking to him.  He frowned, flipping through the next morning's Prophet over coffee in the sitting room by the fireplace.  Photos of him, Ginny, and even Draco splashed across the front few pages.  Then there was Rita Skeeter's ridiculous article that cited Harry's sexuality came as no surprise to her and that she had traced it back to his fourth year and the connection he had with Hogwart's other TriWizard champion, Cedric Diggory.  It was ludicrous but nothing out of the norm in regards to her. 

His eyes were lingering on another photo further down.  It was an older photo of Draco from years back, where he was dressed to the T in an exquisite suit, taking a sip out of his champagne flute at a Ministry function.  Harry remembered the event vaguely in the back of his mind, but unfortunately didn't recall this.  The caption underneath the photo stated that Draco had been watching Harry Potter all evening, but never once approached him.  Harry felt a sudden sadness come over him, and he had to take his eyes away from the piercing ones captured in the picture.  It was just too much... 

How long had Draco Malfoy watched him from afar?  How long had he harbored these feelings and couldn't come forward?  He told Harry that they were engaged to get married before his memory was wiped.  They risked everything to be together, hiding in secret from the disapproval of family and friends from both sides.  They had built a life together, a possible future together.  And Harry knew from deep within that this was entirely serious—that they had been in love back then.  And perhaps if he really had time to consider it, maybe, just maybe, they still were. 

He didn't know what drew him to do what he did next.  All he knew was his feet pushed him out of his chair, and he went to the fireplace.  He grabbed the Floo powder and threw it in, turning the flames to a brilliant emerald.  He couldn't wait anymore.  He needed to see him.  And just as he was about to step inside, he heard a crash and a body collided with him, knocking him down onto the hardwood floor.   

There was that familiar burn immediately against his thighs and chest where the other person pressed against him.  And oh, how he missed this.  He didn't even care that it was somewhat painful—that just meant it was very real.  He was here.  And when Harry opened his eyes, silver grey looked back at him, his face laced with concern.  "You ok?" He asked, pushing himself up and off of Harry. 

Even though Draco's warm presence was removed, Harry couldn't help the smile that started to form when he stood up off the floor.  He gave the other man a once over and replied, "I am, now that you're here." 

"Is it true then?" He asked, taking a tentative step towards Harry.  "You really did it?" 

Nodding, Harry inched closer.  They stood a few inches away from the other, and Harry could feel the hum of the magical bond even from this distance.  It was getting more intense, almost as if throwing out a warning before they did anything else.  "Yes," He confirmed.  "We're officially divorced.  I'm...well, a single man now." 

"Oh," Draco replied.  He took a shaky breath and Harry felt it skate across his own lips.  "And...what do you plan on doing now that you aren't married?"  He asked quickly, his eyes moving down to watch as Harry licked his lips. 

"Well...I've got my eyes on someone else, you see," Harry explained, his eyes roaming unabashedly from Draco's own lips, down to his neck, chest and further down.  He could hear Draco make a strained sound, that caused his own heart to flutter.  "He's this great guy.  I may not know everything there is to know about him, but the more I do know the more I'm starting to really like him.  He's smart...attractive.  Funny sometimes...and, Merlin he's sexy as hell."  Harry watched in wonder as Draco's lips parted, and his cheeks flushed.  And God, he was so perfect.  "Thing is...he is married himself," Harry finished, with a small pout. 

"Oh," Draco said once more, in a daze.  He blinked a few times before asking, "And does he...know you like him?" 

"Draco," Harry spoke softly, taking that last step towards him.  The heat from their bodies and the curse was radiating off the pair of them, but neither dared move away.  All Harry would have to do would lean that last inch and they would be kissing.  Instead, his eyes met those silver pools which held the intensity of several different emotions.  Harry could see his hope, desperation, lust, agony, and beneath it all was the overpowering raw _love_ reflected back at him.  For a moment Harry was left speechless, lost in the moment of staring back at the most beautiful person he'd come to know.   

"Draco," he said once more, his voice cracking. 

"Yes?" He asked back in a whisper, not daring to break eye contact. 

"I...I don't just like him.  I think I love him..."  He took a deep breath, watching Draco's eyes start to glimmer as he stared back.  "I love _you_ , Draco," and then Harry couldn't stand it anymore.  He had to close the distance between them and he kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do.  He heard Draco sob once their lips met, and he pressed back just as urgently.  Their tongues caressed each other tenderly, Draco wrapping an arm absentmindedly around Harry's neck where he plunged his fingers in the mess of black hair.  Harry pulled him in by the waist, his heart felt like it was going to hammer completely out of his chest all the while. 

And it was glorious, and mind blowing and left them both completely out of breath.  And there was the fire, and burn and it was starting to overwhelm them.  Harry could feel the heat licking at every point of contact and part of him was screaming inside that he just didn't care anymore.  That he had to have him.  That he couldn't wait.  He was just about to slide his hands further down, when he felt Draco's hand press against his chest and push them apart.  They stood there panting, eying each other carefully.  Draco's lips were swollen, both from the kiss and curse.  Harry noticed in dismay that his lips cracked at the corner and blood had started to form at the sight.   

"I...I should go," Draco said, shaking.   

Harry immediately stood in front of the fireplace, blocking him.  "No," He said firmly, and from his tone of voice Draco knew there was not going to be any negotiations.  "You're staying," he clarified.   

"I don't think that's such a good idea," He responded, but his voice was weak and defeated.   

"And I think leaving is a horrible idea.  You belong here...with me.  In this house, _our_ house."  Draco's eyes widened but he didn't move away.  Harry took that as enough confirmation and went on, "So, let's go into the kitchen and I'll make you breakfast.  You can tell me what's been going on with you lately.  And we're going to come up with a plan.  Together." 

"Harry...I..." 

But Harry led him out of the sitting room, his hand not touching his back, but Draco moved along with him as if he had.  "Do you still like strawberry pancakes?  I think I have enough here to make some..." 

"Now how do you know I like strawberry pancakes?" Draco asked in wonder, as they stepped into the kitchen.   

Harry gave him a knowing smile, before turning to look inside the cabinet.  He pulled out a bag of flour and plopped it on the counter.  "You always ate them at school, just figured they were your favorite." 

"You _remember_  what I used to eat at Hogwarts?" asked Draco in disbelief. 

Smiling sheepishly, Harry pulled the carton of strawberries over to the sink and proceeded to wash them.  "Sorry, is that weird?  I just...noticed things about you is all."  After having cleaned them, he gathered up a bowl and started to mix all the ingredients.  Draco stood at his side, quiet all the while as he watched Harry cook.  After a few moments, Harry asked, "Draco...everything all right?" 

Chewing on his lip for a minute he then asked, "It's just...is this really happening?  I'm not dreaming or making this all up, am I?" 

Pulling the perfectly browned pancake off the burner, he slipped it onto a plate and handed it over to Draco.  "Nope, got to say I'm pretty real," He offered the other man a smile, before going back to his own pancake.  He flipped it over, waiting for the other side to finish cooking.  "Now eat up.  We've got a lot to do today." 

"Hmm?" Draco mumbled through a bite of his breakfast.  He swallowed before asking, "What are we doing today?" 

He finished cooking and sat across Draco at the table.  He cut into his own pancake and said nonchalantly, "Oh, nothing really.  Got to go to the bank and check out a vault I wasn't even aware I owned.  Maybe while we're there we can check on your own accounts and see what's going to happen when you and Astoria divorce.  Perhaps your lawyer can even draft up the document for us while we're in town." 

With his fork paused halfway to his lips, Draco stared dumbly back.  "Wait...what?" 

Harry smiled over a cup of coffee that he took a quick sip from.  "Well, you're divorcing your wife.  I can't be with a married man, now can I?" 

"Don't you think _I_ should be the one to decide whether I stay married or not?" Draco backed up in his chair, giving Harry an incredulous look.  Harry chuckled.  "Just what has gotten into you?" 

Standing up from the table, Harry took his and Draco's empty plates to the sink.  He scrubbed them clean with a cloth the old fashioned muggle way.  Shrugging his shoulders as he worked he said, "I just think it's about time I do something.  I've been thinking about all of this for far too long.  And all I've been doing is just thinking.  I'm tired of thinking.  I want to do something." 

"Well, you bloody well divorced just last night.  I think that calls for something!" 

Laughing, Harry dried the plates and placed them back up in the cupboard.  He turned to face Draco once more, watching as he stood up from the table.  "True," he smiled, closing in on the other man.  "But, it's not enough.  It won't be enough till I can really be with you.  I want to be with you in the way my dreams show us.  Since I can't remember what used to happen with us, I want to make new memories with you.  Don't you want that?  Draco?" 

"Of course," Draco swallowed hard.  "I don't think I have ever wanted anything more than that..." 

"Then it's settled," Harry grinned, leading Draco out of the kitchen.  Standing in the hall he looked up the stairs.  Draco followed his gaze and both their eyes settled on the path to the upper bedrooms.   

"Is it...still there?" Draco asked, his voice shaking.  Harry nodded.  Draco looked from his face once more, to return back to the stairs.  He reached out tentatively and held onto the banister.  They ascended slowly, and Harry could  hear Draco's heart beat thumping wildly the closer they made it to the top.  Once they reached the door to the master bedroom, they paused.  Draco inhaled deeply and then opened the room.   

He took the few steps to stand at the foot of the beautiful bed.  Harry stood behind him, waiting in silence.  But the silence didn't last long at all, because Draco slumped forward over the bed, his shoulders shuddering.  He began to sob into the covers, and Harry crouched next to him, gingerly patting his back.  He made sure to not let his touch linger too much, and pulled back once he felt his fingertips begin to warm.  But it was a torture all its own, watching how wrecked this had made Draco and Harry couldn't comfort him the way he wanted to. 

A few minutes passed in this awkward crouch, till Draco gave up and laid completely on the bed.  He sniffled as his cries started to die down and he looked up to finally meet Harry's gaze.  "Sorry," he gasped out as he tried to level his breathing back to normal.  "You must think—" 

"Shush," Harry quickly interrupted.  He laid next to Draco on the bed, feeling his own set of anguish at how Draco's eyes reddened, how the tears kept streaming down his face.  "You're allowed to cry, Draco.  Take as much time as you need.  Just know I'm here for you now...I'm not going to leave."   

And he didn't leave.  Neither of them did.  In fact, they didn't leave that room the whole day.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, WOW. This chapter has been a long way coming. It sort of manifested into this crazy angsty piece towards the end so terribly sorry about that. Been listening to too much Adele. If you can get through this without crying, good job. I couldn't master that feat.  
> As for the state of this story, I still know how this is going to end. Getting the words out is a struggle. But thank you for the recent comments. It sort of poked me into gear. Please leave any constructive feedback if it doesn't flow as well as the other chapters. I'm always afraid after a long break it might read a little weird. Hope it doesn't. :(

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work in progress and I will try to update frequently. I hope you all enjoy and leave kudos if you wish. :)


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